


Knight of Fayth

by esama



Category: Final Fantasy X, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Reality, Chocobos, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, F/M, M/M, OOCness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 12:06:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 50,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1687721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esama/pseuds/esama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spira is gloriously hospitable haven for the dead - and Harry'd been dead long enough to appreciate it fully and without reservations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Fanfiction.net around 2011  
> Proofread by Darlene

Someone or something was singing.

Harry floated in the nothingness of space, listening to the distant song idly. It sounded like a hymn – though he wasn't entirely sure, it had been a long while since he had heard any sort of singing, and hymns had never been high on his list of things to listen to. He had never been much on music anyway. The fact that he wasn't even sure how long it had been since he had heard anything made him perk up a little, though.

He had missed sounds – and even if it was a hymn, it was good to just _hear_ something after so long.

Concentrating, he turned towards the sound, listening to it with all he had. There was a voice of a male, deep and resounding. Then there was a boy's voice, high and ringing like silver. A woman's voice in the middle, proud and emotional at the same time. And then there was a group of people, their voices mixed into sweet union, turning the song into a symphony. Unable to help himself, Harry breathed the sound in. The song sounded oddly simplistic in its beauty – he suspect that after a while he'd know the lyrics by heart, even if he would never have any idea what they said, exactly. Still, it was a nice sound.

"It's a world," a voice said behind him, and idly he turned to the new sound. A hooded boy stood there, standing on nothing, his face shadowed. "It has been singing for millennia now. We have been singing. But no one's heard."

"It's nice," Harry said, turning away again. He spent a fleeting moment marvelling that he still could remember how to speak – and that he had a _voice_ left. He wasn't entirely sure he had a body left any more – along the time he had spent, floating in nothingness, he had lost things bit by bit. Memories, body parts. Only the force of his magic had remained, holding him together, holding onto his existence in a place where he shouldn't have been able to survive. Wouldn't, if he still had been alive.

"Is it?" the boy asked, shifting forward. Harry could feel his gaze on his back – even if he wasn't sure if he had a back to be stared at. "How do you hear it?"

"I don't know," Harry answered honestly. "Maybe I don't."

"But you do," the boy disagreed, and then he was beside Harry. Beneath them there was a glowing world, blue and green and white. It felt warm under Harry, but oddly painful. "You are from a world too. But not this one," the boy noted.

"Yes. My world slept away long time ago," Harry agreed, sighing. Long, long ago. The muggles has gone to war and the magic had drained itself out trying to hide from it and then Earth had pulled on a blanket of snow. Then it had slumbered off, taking all the life with it. All but the ghosts that hadn't been able to move on, hadn't wanted to. "It left me, I think – or maybe I slipped away. It's hard to tell."

The boy at his side said nothing for a moment, and they floated in silence, listening to the world below them sing. "It is infected," the boy suddenly said. "By a dream. And that dream keeps alive a monstrosity that keeps us alive, and dreaming – because while it exists we cannot fade, and while we exist we must dream, and while we dream we are used to combat the monstrosity. And for as long as the fighting remains, the monstrosity will be reborn."

Harry smiled – or maybe he emoted it, who knew. "My world never managed to invent the perpetual motion machine," he remembered.

"And we cannot undo ours," the boy said. He was quiet for a moment, while the song intensified below them. "Help," he finally said, quietly. "Help us."

Harry turned, away from the song and towards the boy. "I am dead," he said calmly, but somewhat admonishingly. "I died thousands and thousands of years ago." It was silly to think he could do anything at this point. "And I've been floating since my Earth slept away. I'm nothing but a wraith, if even that."

"In Spira, dead spirits can retake their bodies – if they want to," the ghost whispered. "The magic of Spira, the magic of our souls, remakes life whenever it gets the chance. All you need to do is step upon the soul and you will be alive again."

Harry remained quiet for a moment. It was tempting, by Merlin, it was tempting. He hadn't felt _anything_ for so long. To have a body, hands, feet, to be able to feel and move and see. Just to feel _gravity_ again.... But he still remembered how tiresome life had been, in comparison to how easy death was. And he hadn't forgotten the hard lessons of life. "Why me?" he asked. "And what exactly do you need to be saved from? Your dream? The monstrosity?"

"From the spiral of events endlessly repeating. Break the chain," the boy begged. "Give us our rest."

Harry nodded slowly. It didn't really tell him anything – but he could feel the desperation, and the long, long history in the boy's words. A battle after a battle after a battle – a rebirth after a rebirth after a rebirth. "Why me?" he asked again. "I am nothing."

"You're the first not from this world to hear the song," the boy answered. "Many have passed over Spira along the years. None have listened. You did. It means something."

It only meant that he had some version of hearing left, but Harry didn't say that – there was something more going on here. Something else – something special. Not just the song, or the boy who wasn't a boy, taking in space where there was supposed to be no sound. Maybe it wasn't happening at all – maybe it was in Harry's head. It wouldn't be his first strange fantasy along the long, long years of drifting.

But the planet below him was warm and shining and it was pulling him with the promise of gravity and wind and the feel of ground below his feet – not to mention having those feet to feel it with. It had been so long.

"You will have to guide me," he said, as he began to fall to the welcoming arms of gravity. "I don't know what to do."

"We'll be with you," the boy's voice promised, fading away. "Thank you."

 

* * *

 

The first thing Harry saw was the sky. It was beautiful, blue, seemingly infinite with some wisps of clouds drifting slowly past. He had forgotten what atmospheres looked like, when you saw them from inside out rather than the other way. From space, a sky looked so small, a thin little layer wrapped around an enormous orb – but from this angle it looked really never ending.

The wind that was idly tugging on his hair made him finally realise that he was actually seeing the sky – that _he_ was _seeing_ the _sky_. With a sharp breath, he sat up, slightly surprised he could still remember how to move in a body, and more than slightly shocked that he actually had one again. A body that breathed – which had a torso and hands and, yes, hair too. And eyes and a nose.

"Blimey, the wind smells nice!" he gasped, the first words he said on Spira. At that point he didn't care about how monumental that was – because it was true, the wind smelled excellent. Fresh and grassy and a little moist and just _free_. With a shivery sigh Harry closed his eyes and just breathed in. Merlin it had been ages – he had forgotten what it was like, to be able to smell.

" _How_ long have you been dead?" the boy's voice asked from behind him.

Harry didn't open his eyes, only breathed deep again. The feel of his lungs filling was incredible. "I never counted. Tens of thousands of years maybe, who knows," he answered, and then let himself fall to his side on the grass, turning to lay on his belly so that he could nuzzle his nose into the grass, into the earth. In space there was no time – it had been easy not to count. "I like your world," he murmured dreamily, and plucked a blade of grass from the ground with his teeth, wanting to know if it tasted as good as it smelled.

It tasted better.

"I can see that," the boy said. "I'm glad."

"Hmm," Harry answered, and for a moment everything was perfect and he was the most content he had ever been, just smelling and tasting the grass. The boy said nothing for a long while, seemingly content letting him be content, which for Harry worked just fine. He was certain he could spend a small eternity here, embracing the grass, and so long as nothing bothered him, he figured he might as well start that eternity now.

 When reality finally breached through his haze of being just so darned comfortable, it was in the form of sharp tug on his hair. More confused than annoyed or shocked, Harry lifted his head from the grass, and looked up to see what or who had bothered him. Instead of seeing a person or anything like that – he couldn't even see the weird hooded kid – he saw a pair of sharp talons just beside him. Following them up, he saw a firm bird's – or maybe dinosaur's – leg. The bright expanse of yellow feathers disproved the dinosaur idea – and then the great bird bowed down again, and tugged on his hair again.

"Oi," Harry said idly, tugging back before waving his arm at the creature. "Get off. Shoo. Whatever you are. Go away."

The bird didn't, only let out a strange "kweh" sound, and then butted its great dark orange beak against his waving hand in a friendly nudge – that nearly broke his fingers.

"It's a chocobo," the boy said from behind him as Harry hurriedly drew his hand back, shaking some feeling back to his impact-shocked fingers. "They are common."

Glancing at him, Harry sighed and pushed himself up and to his knees, turning to the bird. It was bigger than an ostrich – about as big as a hippogriff, actually, but fully bird rather than any sort of combination of animals. As he looked up at it, the bird flapped its stunted wings excitedly and warbled at him – before moving forward and head butting him lightly, warbling again. "You're a friendly fella aren't you?" Harry asked, amused as the bird warbled some more, and then cooed as he scratched the underside of its chin. "Tame, maybe?"

The boy, who seemed to loom somewhere in the corner of his eyes, said nothing for a moment. "There are things to do," he then said, moving forward a little. As he did, Harry could see some strange light flickering about him, and glancing behind him he saw odd balls of light with shimmering tails flickering around the boy. The boy himself, formerly seeming so solid, was now grey and transparent. A spirit, maybe.

"Breaking your chain, yeah," the wizard agreed, reaching out and poking one of the lights buzzing around the kid. It flew right through his finger, making it tingle. "In how much of a hurry are we?" he asked, pulling his hand back and rubbing his fingers together. It felt like magic – but nothing like it.

"Much and not at all. Sin isn't going anywhere," the boy answered.

"Sin?" the wizard asked, frowning slightly. "If you want me to fight for your ideals of right and wrong --"

"No, not that sort of sin. Sin is what we call the monstrosity," the boy answered, stepping forward, the strange lights whirling. "Ask about it," he suggested, fading away. "Everyone knows at least a little."

Frowning, Harry eyed the spot the boy had faded away from, before the yellow bird at his side called for his attention again by head butting his shoulder and nearly sending him to the grass on his side. Laughing softly and shaking his head, the wizard turned to the bird, shifting to a crouched position and wrapping his arms around the creature's head, digging his fingers into its feathers and scratching.

It smelled nice too.

As the chocobo cooed and warbled with delight, Harry cast a glance around them, wondering where they were and where he could ask about Sin. All he could see was grassy hills all around him and, a little to the left, some other yellow birds who were idly clawing at the ground or eating the grass. They seemed not to even notice him – which indicated that they were used to humans.

"Okay," Harry murmured, standing up with his arm casually across the chocobo's neck, still scratching. "Let's see then…."

He glanced down at himself, taking in his new body in full detail for the first time. It looked… about right. He couldn't remember all the details of himself, but the shortness of his form was somewhat familiar. He was wearing a long black jacket that reminded him a bit of his old robes, and the rest of his clothes were more or less familiar too. As was his hair, messy and black as it was.

He could work with it, the wizard decided. It looked about functional enough and there were worse things. Like, not having a body. "Okay," he nodded and looked at the chocobo again. "Now, how about we try and see if we can find your owner."

Walking, he realised after a couple of steps, was incredible too. As was the feel of wind in his hair, and the sound of it moving through the grass, the kwehs and warks the chocobo let out. Gravity too – having it hold him forcibly to the ground, instead of it having to be a conscious choice on his part. Flying as a ghost had always been fun – but the feel of strain on his knees and ankles as he took his steps… it was an odd thing to miss, but he had.

Just for that, he decided, Spira was worth saving.

 

* * *

 

It took him nearly an hour to find a trail and a couple of more finally see some sort of settlement in the distance. Harry didn't mind it at all. Walking, hearing, smelling… he could've easily taken a couple of days walking and not felt the slightest bit bored. On top of that, the chocobo had apparently decided to follow him because it had barely left his side the entire way, only running a little ahead at times and then returning to head butt him or demand a scratch before running ahead again. Its excited warbling kept him entertained whenever the wind died down.

Harry wasn't entirely sure what he was looking at, when the settlement came into view from behind a hill. It looked like an odd tent, except not. Or maybe a pavilion or some sort of leisure stopping point, but again, not really. In the end he stopped guessing and just made his way over, the chocobo following him a little more cautiously as they came to the circled area around the thing. Only the sight of the advertisements set up here and there made him figure out that the place wasn't a settlement – but a shop.

"Hi there!" the salesperson greeted him. The counter was right in the front of the tent-building thing, and she was waving over it at him in a fairly friendly manner. "Are you part of Captain Adrak's group?"

Harry smiled. "Nope," he answered with an equal amount of cheerfulness. What an awesome thing to be, cheerful. Ghosts rarely got to feel that. "Who's Captain Adrak?"

"But you have a chocobo… ah, never mind. Captain Adrak's people have been here all the time in the last week or so, I've gotten used to seeing them come around with their mounts, sorry about that," the salesperson said, smiling at him. "He's the Commander of Bevelle's Knights – they've been training here for the week or so."

"And they're known to travel with chocobos?" Harry asked, giving the bird that had been following him a look. Yeah, he could see it – the bird was certainly big enough and fast enough and probably strong enough to be used as a mount. "Neat," he said, and turned back to the woman. "So. I'm a bit lost," he said. "Can you tell me where I am, exactly?"

He expected ridicule or incredulity, but the woman only chuckled. "People always get lost here – the Calm Lands look about the same everywhere," she said, reaching below the counter and bringing out the map. "Here," she said, beckoning him closer. There was a map of what looked like wide plains, with mountains at all side. "We're here," she pointed at the left side of the map. "The way up to Mt.Gagazet is here – and here you can go to the Macalania woods and through them to Bevelle – the Macalania temple on the other hand is here…."

Harry nodded here and there, while eyeing the map. "What's the scale on this thing?" he asked, and she explained soon that to reach either the Mt. Gagazet road or the Macalania forest would take him probably days on foot "Right," he nodded, leaning to the counter with his elbows. He had no way to know which way to go, or if he was even supposed to go in either direction, but it was probably important information, so he pressed it all to his memory.

"So, you need anything else, except for directions?" the woman asked hopefully. "I have great stock here – maps, compasses, potions, gear, weapons. Anything you need to cross the Calm Lands, I have it right here. I'm especially well stocked on armour at the moment – with the Knights here, I've put in a little extra."

"I'm sure you have," Harry smiled. "Sorry, you won't make much a bargain with me. I'm penniless," he admitted sheepishly.

"Oh, pity," she sighed, and wrapped the map away.

"You could help me with something, though, unless you're terribly busy," Harry added, glancing around. Aside from him, her and the chocobo who was munching on some longer grass growing at the side of the shop-tent, there wasn't a soul anywhere near to be seen. "You could tell me everything you know about Sin."

"Sin?" the woman asked, and then frowned. "You don't know."

"Of course I know," Harry answered smoothly. "But you see; I'm collecting this chronicle about what people know about Sin. Old stories, what they've heard from their parents, stuff like that."

"Oh, you're a writer," she nodded knowingly, as if everything suddenly made sense. "Will you put my name in the book?"

"If you want me to," Harry nodded smoothly.

"Okay, sweet. My name is Dnana – make sure to remember that," the woman grinned, leaning over the counter. "So, what do you want to know?"

"Anything. Everything," Harry said, and then snapped his fingers as if getting an idea. "I know. Pretend that I've never heard of Sin in my life – that I'm from some weird place where Sin's never been. Or that I'm an alien from another planet. Anything. Just, tell me the whole thing the way you see it as if I know nothing about anything."

Dnana giggled softly. "Alright," she said, before tapping her chin with two fingers. "Okay, where to begin. I can't remember how old I was when I first heard of Sin. I think my mom told me stories about it when I was really little, you know, long, long before I can remember – because I can't remember ever not knowing about him, you know?"

"Yeah. Go on," Harry nodded.

"Shouldn't you be writing this down?"

"I've got good memory – trust me, I'll remember every word you say perfectly," Harry promised.

"Okay then," she said a bit suspiciously, before getting a thoughtful look about her face. "The first time saw Sin, I was about six years old. It was a picture, you know – someone had taken it just before Sin attacked Kilika. Well, one of the many times Sin attacked Kilika. I couldn't really get any feel for it back then – because really, Sin is so big that when you see only part of it, it looks like a great blob, you know?"

"How big, would you say?" Harry asked thoughtfully. Monstrous really meant a great big whopping monster, then?

"I don't know. I don't think anyone's ever measured Sin – but I think, if Sin jumped on Luca, you couldn't see the town from beneath it. It's so big," Dnana said with a thoughtful nod. "Maybe a bit of the edges, but not much more. I haven't really given it much a thought really, because it's Sin, you know. It's just… so big."

Harry nodded. "What was the first thing you've ever heard of Sin doing?"

"The attack on Kilika," the woman nodded.

"Pretend I don't know what Kilika is, and explain it to me, okay?" Harry asked, giving her a charming smile. "Alien from another world here, right?"

"Right," she nodded, grinning. "Okay, so, Kilika. It's this small island, far to the south – below Luca and above Besaid. There's a temple there, I think Summoners get Ifrit there, but I'm not sure. Anyway, Kilika has these rainforests, yeah? And they're full of fiends, like, Marlboros and stuff – so people can't live there, but they can't leave the island either, because the temple is there and you can't exactly move a temple. So, KilikaVillage is on the shore – a little past the shore, actually, it's like on stilts above the water. Never been there, but I hear it's beautiful.

"Anyway," she continued. "Sin mostly hangs around water – and Kilika is, well, kind of vulnerable the way it is. It's just wood, on stilts, above water. So, whenever Sin so much as passes the place by, splash, crack, boom!" Dnana slapped her hands together. "Gone. But KilikaIsland has a temple so it has to have a harbour too, so they rebuild it again and again after Sin destroys it, because they don't have much a choice. Kilika's village has been wiped out like eight times in the time I've been alive."

"Ouch," Harry murmured. "You'd think that'd give the people enough incentive to brave the jungles."

"You'd think, but I guess the fiends are too strong. They're like between a rock and a hard place," Dnana shrugged sadly. "Anyway. The first thing I remember Sin doing in my life is that. I think there was like a spawn attack there that time – usually KilikaVillage is taken out by tidal waves and stuff, but I remember it being spawns that time."

"Alien from another world, remember?" Harry asked, raising eyebrows. "Spawns."

"Ah, yeah, sorry. Spawns are like these things that grow out of Sin. Where ever he goes, the spawns appear. I think I heard a priest or someone once say that Sin sheds them like dandruff of something – they just fall off Sin. And then they attack anything nearby that so much as moves," Dnana said, and shuddered. "I've seen a couple close by. They're like your average fiends – except creepy. And sometimes huge."

"Okay," Harry nodded slowly. So, aside from Sin and spawns and whatnot, there were also _average fiends_? What an interesting world. "And attacks on places like Kilika, they happen often?"

"Once a month you hear that Sin's attacked this ship or this village or this settlement," Dnana shrugged her shoulders. "He's seen like several times a week here and there, and it creeps people out every time. I was born in Bevelle you know – and every time anyone as much whispered that Sin was seen close by, the entire town went into a panic. You never know when and where Sin will attack – if he's seen close by, it's never a good sign."

"And did it? Attack Bevelle, that is?" Harry asked.

"A couple of times. I was about… fifteen, I think. Yeah, I was fifteen, when Sin attacked Bevelle – it was scary as hell, you know. It was just hanging there, in the air, and I really thought it would just drop down and crush everything. But the Bevelle Wyrm and the Warrior Monks and the Chocobo Knights, I think they drove it away."

So, the Sin could fly – and it could be driven away? Harry nodded slowly. "Bevelle Wyrm?" he asked.

"Yeah, Evrae. It guards the city," Dnana answered. "I've no idea where it's come from. Some think it's an Aeon, but who knows. It's been protecting Bevelle since for ever – my grandfather told me stories about it and everything."

"Okay," the wizard nodded. Wyrms that guarded the cities from Sin, right. "So. Where do you think Sin comes from?"

Dnana was quiet for a moment before frowning. "The priest at my school said that Sin came to be because of the sacrilegious actions of people – because long ago, we made machina and did horrible things with them. My granddad, though, he said that no one knows. He was a Crusader when he was a young – he was part of the Siege of Luca Bay, so he must've known what he was talking about. Sin's just always been there. Maybe it's because of machina and stuff, or maybe it's there just… because it is there. I'm no Summoner, so what do I know, right?" she asked, laughing softly, mirthlessly.

"Summoner?" Harry asked, and as she gave him another strange look, he smiled. "Alien from another world, me," he said, pointing at himself.

"Right, right. Sorry. Uhm. Summoners, they're the ones who defeat Sin. They go on these pilgrimages, they get all the Aeons – that is, the creatures they summon, you know. And then they go to Zanarkand – they go through here you know – and then… then they defeat Sin. Well some do. It was almost ten years since it happened the last time."

The woman sighed. "I was just about seventeen, when High Summoner Braska defeated Sin," Dnana said, sounding a little wistful. "I remember how it was, afterwards. The parties in Bevelle, they lasted for a week – everyone was so happy. And for a complete year after that, it was quiet. Not a single word about Sin, not a whisper, no attacks. You could go anywhere and just know that there would be nothing to worry about. The best year of my life, the Calm."

Harry eyed her quietly. "And then Sin came back?" he asked.

"It always does," Dnana nodded sadly. "My granddad said that when he was young, there was a Calm that lasted almost three years. Three years, can you believe it? It's been nine years since the last Calm – and that only lasted for one year. It's unfair."

"It really is," the wizard said quietly. "If the High Summoners can defeat Sin – why don't they do it right after the Calm ends?"

The woman gave him a strange looks. "You only become a High Summoner if you defeat Sin. And I don't think I've ever heard of a High Summoner who survived after defeating Sin."

"…Oh," the wizard murmured looking away. Well that explained a few things. Summoners went on pilgrimages to defeat Sin – and died, if they actually managed it. A year or three later, Sin returned and another Summoner went through the same ordeal, and died at the end of it. Rinse and repeat. But how? How could you defeat something – only to have it return after a year or so? What was Sin – did it have a horcrux somewhere, or something?

"You say that Summoners go through here to, um, where?"

"Zanarkand. All Summoners go there from here and through Mt.Gagazet." Dnana nodded, pointing toward north – where, Harry supposed, the entrance to Mt.Gagazet was. "That's where the Final Aeon is, I hear, in the ruins of Zanarkand. Except a lot of them don't. They come here and then they get cold feet, and then they go home. I've seen something like a dozen Summoners here – none of them even went to Mt.Gagazet, not to mention Zanarkand."

Harry nodded slowly, wondering if Zanarkand was where he was supposed to go. "How does summoning work?" he asked thoughtfully.

Dnana shrugged. "The Summoners pray to the Fayth in the temples. That's about all I know. Well, they go through some trials and stuff," she said and shook her head. "I don't really know."

Praying. Well, that would be out, Harry mused. He had never prayed to anything, and whatever the _Fayth_ were, he wasn't going to pray to them either. "Aside from the Summoners, is there anything else – anyone else – that could possibly try and defeat it?" he asked thoughtfully.

"Well, there's the Crusaders – but they've been crusading to defeat Sin for as long as I can remember, and they never have. They can sometimes hold it at bay – like with Bevelle and stuff – but yeah, that's about it. The warrior monks maybe… nah, they just protect Bevelle and the temples I think, and that's it. There's the Chocobo Knights too, but they're pretty much the same as the Crusaders, except they ride chocobos. They're pretty new, though, so who knows. Maybe they'll make a difference," Dnana said thoughtfully. "They've been training like mad here for the last few days, so maybe they've got some idea about what to do…."

Harry nodded. "Anything else?"

"Well, some say the Al Bhed try too, with forbidden machina and all, but I try not to think too deeply into that," she admitted. "My boss is an Al Bhed."

Harry considered asking who or what the Al Bhed were, but decided against it because of the look of unease on the woman's face. "Okay, thanks. I think I got what I needed," he said, nodding. "So, those knights training here, under that Captain Agros, was it? They're Chocobo Knights?"

"Captain _Adrak_ , and yeah," Dnana nodded, looking relieved that he had changed the subject.

Since summoning was out and everything else seemed a bit long-shot – and because of the convenience of being at the same place at the same time… it wouldn't hurt to try. "You wouldn't happen to know where, exactly, they're training in here?" he asked, while looking at the chocobo that had taken a liking to him, wondering how well it would take to a saddle.

 

* * *

 

After getting directions and wishes for good luck from Dnana, Harry and the chocobo that was still following him set out again, making their way across the grassy pains of the Calm Lands. While walking, the wizard thought through all he had heard, wondering. So many things to remember and investigate. Sin itself was getting a better shape in his head, but the rest of it…. Monks, Knights, Crusaders, Summoners, wyrms, Al Bhed, whatever they were, and so forth.

He couldn't wait to learn more.

"Really interesting world," he murmured to himself, stretching his arms and then throwing one of them around the chocobo's neck, as it came close enough to push at his shoulder compassionately again. "And you too. You're interesting too. Do you belong to the Chocobo Knights, perhaps? Or are you really just a wild thing that took a liking to me? Hm?" he asked, but as he scratched the underside of the bird's beak, it only warbled happily and didn't answer.

After an hour or so walking, things other than Sin and Spira and how good everything smelled started to finally come to the Wizard. As he watched how the chocobo clawed some sort of root from the ground and ate it happily, he had to wonder about why he wasn't getting hungry at all. It had been… four, five hours since he had gotten a body, but he wasn't even feeling the slightest bit like he ought to eat something.

"Kid? Boy? Ghostly fella with sprinkles on top, you here anywhere?" he asked, glancing around himself until he caught the shadowy shape of the boy in the corner of his eye. "Sorry to bother you, whatever you were doing, but this body – do I need to feed it?"

"Your physical form is the construction of your spirit and memories, given shape by the powers of this world," the boy answered. "You cannot die because you aren't alive."

"So, that's a no then," Harry murmured. If he couldn't starve to death it made sense his body wouldn't need any food. "Won't it be a bit suspicious if I never need to eat? Do I need to sleep?" he wondered.

"You don't need to, but you can," the boy said. "Eat too, only you will get nothing from it."

"Okay. Neat," the wizard nodded slowly. Being dead in this place was a much sweeter deal than being dead back on Earth – there the best he had been able to do was float around and occasionally scare people. Here he got all the perks of being human without the weaknesses. "How many dead people are there here? I mean, do they all get this?" he asked, pointing at himself. If everyone could get it, then the place ought to be full of the walking dead."

"Some. More than necessary, perhaps. Not all can, though, most get corrupted," the boy answered. "And a Summoner has the power to Send the dead onwards, and to the Farplane."

"That your version of Afterlife?" Harry mused. "And Sending is your version of exorcism. Okay. How does that work – and can people tell that I'm dead? Because if some Summoner will just know, that will be a bit awkward."

"If you take steps, they will not know – and a Sending is a prayer that takes time, if you are fast enough you can avoid it," the ghost boy answered. He hesitated for a moment. "We, that is… the Fayth know you are here. We can… take steps to protect you from such things."

"If I'm to save you lot, I'd suggest you get to it. Much good I will do to you all if someone just up and prays me out of this world," Harry answered before frowning. "You're the Fayth?" he asked. "The Fayth Summoners pray to, to get their Aeons or whatever? How does _that_ work?"

"The Aeons are the realisation of our dreams," the boy explained. "They are bound to us, we are bound to crystal icons, housed in temples. Summoners present themselves to us, pray to us, and if we find them worthy, we will bond and they may call on our Aeon."

Harry nodded slowly. "Okay. Realisations. Right. And they can fight things?"

"Their bodies are formed much like yours."

"Ah. Got it."

So, basically, the temples housed the horcruxes of Aeons and the power of Spira could go as far as to supply the body for that horxcux if it was called? That probably wasn't quite it, but trying to fit it into the terms of Earth's magic made it simpler for Harry. It had been so long, but it still made better sense to Harry than the other stuff.

"And there's how many of the Aeons?"

"Eight, and the Final Summoning, which works differently," the boy explained. "Most Summoners only find half of them."

"Okay," Harry nodded before giving the boy a look. "I hope you don't expect me to get them all – or any of them – because me and praying, we've never gotten along. Especially since I died."

The boy looked a bit taken aback for a moment, before he let out a small chuckle. "I don't know," he admitted. "We were ready to give the Aeons to you, but if you don't want them… what way do you think you can help us?"

"I don't know," Harry shrugged and grinned. "We'll see, won't we?"

He found the camp of the Chocobo Knights shortly before the sun started setting and the air started to get a hint of coolness to it. He nearly missed the entire camp as he enjoyed the new smell on the wind, and in the end only noticed it thanks to the chocobo, who started kwehing and warbling – to which several others chocobos warbled and kwehed back in greeting.

The camp was pretty simple, Harry noted as he approached. There were some tents and fences made from wooden poles that were connected by ropes. The chocobos were penned up in the rope fences, while some armoured people practiced with swords and lances while others tended to some chocobos on the side. One of them Harry noted with fascination, was fitting some sort of armour onto one of the chocobos. It looked fairly impressive.

As he walked closer and the people noticed him, he was greeted by waves and calls before a couple of people approached him, eyeing him and the chocobo that was nuzzling into his shoulder anxiously between looking and warbling at the other chocobos. "Are you here to join?" a dark haired man with no-nonsense type of face asked, his chest plate impressively full of scratches.

Harry nodded. "Sure," he said, and grinned. He hadn't thought it would be so easy. "Where can I sign up?"

It turned out to be a bit easier – there was no signing up. Apparently aside from being there to train, the Knights had also posted several recruitment posters all over the place in hopes of getting new recruits. He was among the few that had turned up.

"People tend to rather go to the Crusaders – think they are bigger and better organised, not to mention under the command of the Church," Captain Adrak explained, after hearing that Harry had heard of them from the merchant of the Calm Lands. "It is true, of course, but we Chocobo Knights are much more flexible, and we obviously travel lighter and faster. Now, what kind of experience do you have?"

Harry eyed the field, where some senior knights were instructing their newest recruits on how to hold lances. "Some, sir. I've ridden feathery creatures before and I've held a sword. Never done both at the same time, though – or either in excessive amounts," he said thoughtfully. "I've seen battles though."

"Excellent," Adrak clapped his heavily gloved hands together before standing up and looking over at one of the tents, where a slightly older man was scowling at a badly chipped sword. "Let's see how you do with a sword then. Oi, Tar, you think we got training armour that will fit -- what was your name again?"

"It's Harry, sir," the wizard answered, standing up as well.

"Hm. Unusual name. Okay, armour for Harry here – and get me some training swords!"

While the chocobo that had been following him made friends with the other chocobos, Harry was lead to an open area near the tents, where the slightly older man named Tar handed him and Adrak a pair of wooden training swords. Curiously Harry waved his around, trying to get a feel to it. It was no sword of Gryffindor, definitely not – it was wood, for one, but also the blade was wider and longer, and the handle was long enough for both hands. Yet he was pretty sure it wasn't a two handed sword.

"We usually use lances, rather than swords – they are simply more efficient from the back of a chocobo to use," Adrak said, while whirling his sword almost absently in his grip. "But there will of course be times when we cannot fight whilst mounted, and in those times a lance might be too long."

"Right, right," Harry nodded. "Now what, sir?"

A whole lot of training, it turned out. Adrak spent exactly three minutes testing Harry with the sword before dubbing him a complete novice, and putting him with the other novices. Harry didn't mind – because he was learning how to _sword fight_ , and how awesome was that? Not to mention about the fact that he was moving and fighting and learning and feeling it all.

The high of having a body to experience the stuff with still hadn't gone away and Harry was starting to think it was never going to. He was pretty okay with that.

After about an hour or so of sword training, of swinging again and again and again at this angle and that angle, of learning how to grip a sword right and how to brace for the impact of swords meeting and what not, their trainer called the training over for the day. As the other novices sighed with relief and dropped their swords, eagerly making their way to a nearby table where someone had laid out some sandwiches and what not, Harry waved his sword some more. He wasn't hungry at all – and seriously, _sword fighting_.

"Harry. That chocobo of yours?" Adrak asked, as he finally left the sword in favour of trying to hold onto the pretence of being a living breathing human. "She's tame, isn't she?"

Frowning, Harry glanced over to where some of the knights were trying to get a saddle onto the bird that had following him. The bird was ducking out of the way and flapping its wings threateningly at them, even while warbling excitedly like it was just a game. To it, it probably was. "I don't know, sir. It just started following me earlier today. She?" Harry asked.

"Yes, it's a female," Adrak nodded before giving him a considering look. "A wild chocobo started following you? What did you do – lure her with greens?"

"No, I didn't, sir, I just…" Harry trailed away, not entirely sure how to explain. "It just sort of happened."

"Ah, well. Some of the chocobos of these plains are like that. They all used to be tame at one point in history – the chocobos here are descendants of ones that were left behind or which escaped – or laid eggs on the plains – and which then became feral," Adrak murmured thoughtfully. "Some of them still grow easily fond of humans, if you're lucky enough to encounter one like that. I suppose we will have to see if she can be trained then," he mused and then glanced at Harry. "Do you think you could put a saddle on her?"

"I could try, sir, but no promises," Harry answered, shrugging his shoulders. "Right now it seems she just thinks it's a game."

"It's definitely better than it would be if she'd thought it was an attack," Adrak said, clapping his shoulder heavily. "It'll have to wait until tomorrow though. It's getting late. Now, how about you get something to eat and we'll see if we can fit you in the tents?"

"Sounds like a plan, Captain," Harry agreed.

He ended up not sleeping a wink that night and spent the entire night just lying in the bedroll assigned to him, staring at the roof of the tent while around him the other novices snored away. It wasn't a bad experience at all – the sounds of people breathing and how the chocobos moved around in the pen, clawing the ground… there were worse things to listen to.

Like absolutely  _nothing_. That had gotten tiresome after a few days – and he seriously didn't want to know how long he had been listening to it. Longer than any sane person had any business listening to nothing.

Sighing contently, Harry closed his eyes. He loved Spira. Such a hospitable place.


	2. Chapter 2

It took him a couple of days to get the hang of the sword in a way that somewhat satisfied his trainer. That was about the time it also took to get the chocobo that had been following him to settle down enough to accept a saddle. Harry was pretty certain that once the chocobo had been saddled, it would be safe to try and mount her, but the knights seemed to disagree, so he didn't.

"Even if she's half tame already, she's still a wild bird and might take badly to having a man on her back. And a chocobo's kick can break a man's spine easy enough. Let her get used to the saddle first, and see how we ride the other birds," the man mostly in charge of the chocobos and their gear, Mertyn, said. "Then we'll see how she'll handle it."

"Sure, sir, if you say so. I'm in no rush," Harry answered. "It's just that I've never ridden a chocobo, specifically. Maybe I should try it out before I try her – it'll probably go better if one of us has an idea what they're doing."

The man laughed and clapped his shoulder before taking him to his own chocobo, Berka, who was among the oldest and most docile chocobos in the regiment. With Meryn's guidance, Harry fitted his new combat boot into the stirrup, before taking hold of the saddle and lifting himself up and astride the bird's back. It was surprisingly easy, though considering that his past experiences with winged mounts were mostly hippogriff and thestrals and he had never as much as seen a saddle before, maybe that was it.

"Okay, now. Fit your legs along the shape of his wings, maybe a little bit underneath them," Mertyn directed. "And squeeze your calves in, but not too much, don't dig your heels into his sides, but squeeze well enough to hold yourself steady. We need tend to need both of our hands to hold lances or swords and our shields, so we don't use reigns in the battle and the way you guide your bird is mostly by the centre of your weight. If you shift forward, the chocobo will move forward, if you lean left, the chocobo will also. So you need to hold a good grip with your legs. Got it?"

"Yes, sir, got it," Harry agreed, and then tried. He had always had a certain bond with winged creatures – Hedwig, Fawkes, Buckbeak, the thestrals of Hogwarts, not to mention all the other creatures that had come afterwards. But, after half an hour on the chocobo's back, he decided that the yellow birds were his new favourites. The way the bird followed his guidance reminded him a bit of a way a person guided a broom – and though it wasn't exactly flying, it was so much better than the hang-on-and-hope-you-don't-fall method he had used to ride hippogriffs and thestrals.

"Good job, Harry, good job," Mertyn said, after he had gotten the hang of steering. "You're taking to this like a chocobo to a greens. Now, let's try some more difficult manoeuvres. Can I get a shield and practice lance in here?!" he called to Tar, who grumbled and left the blade he had been tending to get the requested items.

It turned out that learning to ride a chocobo was nothing. Learning to ride one like a Chocobno Knight would probably take years. It was so amazing – like medieval knights, except on birds and with lighter equipment, and slightly less oriented towards raw charging and more on quick manoeuvring. A horse would've never moved as easily or lightly as a chocobo, after all – and man could the birds jump. They hop over each other and each bird was something like seven feet tall. At the very least!

"It's a start," Mertyn pronounced after Harry wobbled down from Berka's back, his knees a bit shaky and his heart pumping with adrenaline. He felt so alive that for a moment he swore he had forgotten that he wasn't – he was even perspiring and everything! And his bum was probably getting blisters! He could get _blisters_!

"How long did it take for you to learn that weird zigzag turn, sir?" Harry asked while rubbing his backside awkwardly. When Mertyn had demanded he try the manoeuvre meant to be used to weave through a crowd, Berka had nearly knocked him off the saddle four times.

"I invented it. Most of the manoeuvres of the Bevelle Chocobo Knighs are my inventions," Mertyn said grinning. "It took some doing to perfect it, though, and it tends to take some months before novices master it. I'm shocked you stayed in the saddle, people usually fall the first time."

"That sounds vaguely familiar," Harry murmured, shaking his head. But if most of them were invented by Mertyn…. "How old are the Bevelle Chocobo Knights anyway, sir?"

"Stop calling me sir. I've got a name. And they're not that old, less than ten years I think. The Djose Chocobo Knights are older, almost fifteen years or so, but in comparison to the Crusaders we're still just ducklings," the physically older man answered, folding his arms. "We started just around the time when the last Calm was, wasn't it? Sin used to hang around the Calm Lands a lot before that, so no one here dared to try and tame chocobos – I'm from Mi'ihen Road myself, born and bred. That's where I learned to handle the birds."

"Right," Harry nodded and stretched his arms. They were both still shaky after holding the heavy shield and lance for so long. He was _aching_ – it was brilliant. "I don't think me and lances agree much. Do you think I could use a spear instead sir? I mean, Mertyn."

"Some do, but I think lances are better for ramming – the grip is designed for it, after all," the man answered thoughtfully. "I think Tar's working on a sort of split though. You could ask him. We have some other long weapons too, you can have a look."

Harry did. There were a lot of weapons from lances to spears to swords of several different lengths – one of them being what looked like a seven-foot-katana or something. There were also some things which looked like pitchforks and such, but the one Harry took an immediate liking to was a weapon with a spear-like long shaft, and then what looked like a sabre for a blade.

"A naginata," Tar grunted, after taking the weapon off the rack. "Not a bad choice for your build – you're on the shorter side, not too heavy either. Let me adjust the shaft for you and then you can have a go at it."

Adjusting the shaft apparently meant cutting a great part off it, it turned out. Tar measured it very carefully though, leaving the shaft exactly as long as Harry was tall, with the sabre-like blade adding a good thirteen inches of extra. "Alright, let's see how you handle it, then," the weapon smith said.

It could've gone better, but the wood of the shaft felt better than the leather of a sword grip or the metal of a lance. Harry wasn't entirely sure, but the thing might've even conducted a magic a bit – it felt warm in his hand, sparkling. "Can you… do anything special with this, sir?" he asked carefully, after spending a moment swinging the thing around.

"All my weapons work as focuses, well enough," Tar said, glaring at him.

"…focuses?"

"Yes, damn it, they all conduct magic just as well as any Crusader weapon," Tar snapped. "Do you think that I'd make sub-par weapons, huh?"

"No, no, not at all," Harry quickly assured, holding his hands up in sign of peace. He heard a chuckle coming from behind him, and glanced over his shoulder to see their Captain.

"You sound lively. Are you interested in trying some magic, Harry?" Adrak asked, walking closer. He was holding a shield that seemed to have a broken strap. "We have some knights who used to be warrior monks or were considering being in the Crusaders, so we make sure that all black and white mages can use their skills without any trouble. The training weapons are the only ones which aren't focuses – but that's because they're only meant to be used to learn the forms of fighting, rather than to fight."

Harry nodded slowly. So, a focus was like a wand, except all weapons were like that. And apparently magic users were common. White mages and black mages, huh? Interesting. He had to wonder which one he was. "Mind if I try?" he asked, waving the naginata experimentally. It would be brilliant if he could use old Earth magic.

"Go ahead, if you think you can," Tar said, folding his arms.

"Don't mind him, he's always like this. You can try over there – or if you want to practice on a target, we can set something up," Adrak said, sizing Harry up. "It would be great to have an experienced magic user in the Knights. Especially a white mage."

"Let me have a go at first, sir, we'll see how I do and what I am afterwards," Harry answered, and walked to the area the Captain had pointed out. After a few test swings and trying to get feel of the thing, he took the thing into both hands. Now how were these focuses used here? Was he supposed to point it like a wand, or thrust it, or swing it or…. Shaking his head and deciding not to over think it, Harry pointed the weapon forward, and at the grass before him.

The silent cutting hex came out better than he thought. A gouge appeared in the ground, not very long or deep, but definitely there. Blinking and then grinning, Harry pulled the naginata back and then swung it forward, this time sending a jet of water across the high grass. The water attack came out at surprising speed and sharpness – it actually cut some of the grass down before breaking into a loose wave.

"It seems to be working just fine," he mused, spinning the naginata and then holding it at his side. It was no wand though – the spells were somehow sharper than he remembered them being, but not as powerful and that deep companionship he had always felt with his wand was completely missing. Maybe because the naginata had been given to him, and he hadn't won it.

"So, you're a black mage then," Adrak said, approaching him. "How much experience do you have with magic? What kind of magic can you do?"

"This and that, sir. My shield charms are better than my other spells, but I do well enough with attack magic too," Harry answered thoughtfully. So, attack spells made him a black mage. Alright. So as long as being a black mage didn't get him immediately branded as evil, he was fine with that. "Do the Knights have any white mages?" he asked, wondering about that. What was white magic, if black magic was combat magic?

"Tar, if you can believe, can cast some – he can even cast a Curaga in a bind. But that's about it. If the Mi'ihen Knights or Djose Knights have healers, I don't know," the Captain sighed and thoughtfully ran his hand through his short cropped hair. "How much magic can you cast in one go – what's your limit? And do you think you could learn other magic, say, Haste? Or do you know it already? And do you know if you're just black magic oriented, or could you learn some white magic, maybe Esuna? It would be useful to have at least one person who knows that one."

"I don't know," Harry answered slowly. So, white magic was healing magic. He could get behind that type of categorising, though he had to wonder where stuff like levitation and banishment charms and such went, though, house hold charms and such. Or transfiguration and things like that. And what was Haste or Esuna? Well, Haste could mean only so many things, but… "How do you learn them? It's been a while since I learned the stuff I know now, so…."

"Talk to Tar, he might be able to help. If he feels like it," the Captain said. "If you could do it sooner rather than later, it would be better. If there's any chance you might be able to learn Esuna…."

"We're in a hurry?" Harry asked, glancing at the Captain.

"We are training for a reason," Adrak said, and gave him a look. "I suppose the others haven't told you about it yet? There's plans for a joint mission to fight Sin in the works. Us Knights will be part of it, along with the crusades and the Al Bhed, if they can get them to join the mission. That's why we're training here now, so that we're ready if the mission happens."

"A joint mission to fight Sin?" Harry asked slowly. "But sir, I thought Sin was unpredictable. How can you plan a mission against something when you can't know when or where it will be?"

Adrak smiled slightly. "I believe the Crusaders have captured Sin spawns," he said. "It's believed that when enough Sin spawns are brought together, Sin himself will show up. The idea is to lure Sin into a spot where we can attack it on all possible sides. Or, that is what they plan, but only if the Al Bhed join in."

"Why only if they join?" the wizard asked, wondering.

"Because they have the forbidden machina. We Knights and the Crusaders don't have any means of fighting something like Sin, not really, but the Al Bhed have cannons and such," Adrak said and then sighed. "I don't much care for this plan myself, to be honest, but it is the best plan I have heard in a long while. Usually all we can do is fight Sin spawns that the monster himself leaves behind and then help rebuilding what Sin destroyed. This operation, if it pulls through, might be the best chance we will ever get at actually doing something – aside from protecting Summoners and wishing them well."

"Ah," Harry nodded. Sin came back for its spawn? That was… fairly odd behaviour for an immortal monster. As Adrak headed away, Harry ran his hand over his messy black hair, staring up at the sky. Machina, if it was things like cannons, had to mean technology then and the Al Bhed were the only ones who had it? Well, if it was forbidden, he could maybe finally understand Dnana's conflicted feelings about them a little better. Forbidden technology, Crusaders and Knights and a great big whopping monster, immortal and nearly unstoppable… what a world.

After a moment of thinking, Harry grinned. An operation to fight Sin was just what he needed to get a nice good look at the beast himself. Joining the Chocobo Knights had ended up being a better idea than he had thought.

 

* * *

 

Harry had just gotten over the disappointment after Tar had informed him that no, he couldn't teach him any white magic, when Adrak informed them that they would be moving from Calm Lands to Mi'ihen Highroad.

"I got a message from Captain Lucil – she wants us to start training together so that all the knights can move as one when the time comes, and I agree with her reasoning. We need to move with the same formations and to do that, we need to learn those formations together," Adrak said to the group of knights and novices. "It doesn't seem we're going to get any more recruits here, in any case."

"And no wonder – it's much more profitable to join the monks, so anyone in Bevelle who wants anything to do with the fighting would rather go to them. Spoiled brats," Tar muttered in the back.

"Quite," Adrak agreed with a sigh. "I was hoping we could make use of the monster arena here, but I suppose it doesn't matter now. It's best we pack now and start to get ready to move as soon as possible – the sooner we go, the sooner we can join our brothers in Mi'ihen Highroad."

"Monster arena?" Harry asked another novice.

"Yeah. Some weird guy has this arena on the west side of the plains – for the Summoners. When they come here, they want to train some more, so they go to the monster arena to test their skills and summons, because they know they won't get another chance after they go to Mt.Gagazet," the novice, Egea said. "Well, that was the original idea anyway. I think the Ronsos use it more than Summoners do."

As the other knights headed around, starting to collect their things and pulling the tents down, Harry wondered about such a concept as a monster arena. He had seen some hints of beasts in the fields, but they had seemed to be avoiding him for the most part. It was pity no one had told him about the place – he would've loved to check it out.

"You, rookie. Come here," Tar snapped him out of his thoughts, making Harry turn around. The man was already walking away though, towards the supply tent, and Harry had to jog after him. "I've been remodelling some armour for you. Let's get this over with," the surly weapon smith said, pointing to a spot. "Stand there, take off that ridiculous jacket."

"It's not ridiculous," Harry answered automatically, but removed it. He rather liked the jacket, it was familiar enough, but he had to admit that the long hem had been a bit bothersome while training and he had ended up mostly going without it and just wearing his shirt instead.

"Okay. Let's start with something proper. Here. Put these on," Tar said throwing him a short leather jacket and trousers with strange padding here and there. Rising a single eyebrow at it, Harry quickly pulled them on, despite how weird it felt to be wearing something that was so tight to his skin, knowing better now than to start arguing with the man. Tar had nearly stabbed him when he had asked about white magic one time too many.

The padding made more sense, when Tar started pulling out the pieces of the armour set. First a guard that covered his shoulders, shoulder blades and upper arms, which were connected to each other and to guards that went to either side of his hips by long leather straps that went neatly over the padded points of the jacket. Then a chest plate and the matching plate on the back, also connected by straps.

As Harry marvelled at the craftsmanship and felt fairly brilliant under the weight of the armour, Tar went about fastening shin guards around his legs and over his knees, before taking out plates which went over his thighs and were strapped to the guards at Harry's hips. The assembly was completed with long gauntlets and gloves of sturdy, thick leather.

All in all, the get up was heavier than he had thought, but not as heavy as he had feared – it definitely had a presence, but it wasn't overwhelming. The padding buffered the whole thing nicely and the weight wasn't concentrated anywhere, but rather spread all throughout. Harry also suspected that he'd be thanking the padding to high heavens after a few hours of wearing the armour – it didn't feel like that much weight now, but after a while it probably would.

"There," Tar said, after testing the armour by tugging on it here and there, and finally handed him a helmet. "Now you look like a Chocobo Knight."

Harry eyed the helmet for a moment. It was definitely designed with the chocobo motif in mind – the visor was sharp and the entire helmet kind of reminded him of a chocobo's head, especially since it had a tail of long yellow feathers.

"The armour obviously has some openings – we can't make it fully covering without making it too heavy," Tar said. "I'm still trying to get the Captain to approve some chain mail, but that might have to wait until after the operation, if it ever happens."

"Okay," Harry nodded, before lifting the helmet up. It at first felt a little loose around his head, and he said as much.

"I'll see if I can add some padding," Tar agreed, taking the helmet. "Not all knights wear a helmet, mind you, but the ones that don't are complete idiots. You fall of a chocobo's back at a full run and don't have a helmet – and it's a trip to the Farplane for you next. Give me a moment."

Harry nodded thoughtfully as the man went to get the padding and waved his hands around a little to see how well he could move. It was a bit constricting around the shoulders, he couldn't lift his arms straight up, but other than that the armour wasn't really that stifling. And he wouldn't have minded even if it had been because he was wearing _armour_. He was a _knight_. How bloody awesome was _that_?

"If not all Chocobo Knighs wear helmets, does it mean that not all of them wear armour either?" Harry asked.

"Well, there's no form as far as the Knights go. We're still new and we have next to no rules as far as gear goes – hell, most of us don't have the funds to kit ourselves properly. We Bevelle Knights got lucky with Captain Adrak – he can raise funding like no other," Tar said, coming back and lifting the helmet to Harry's head. "How's that?"

"Definitely better," Harry nodded, and lifted his chin as the man strapped the helmet strap under his chin.

With a satisfied nod, Tar slammed the visor down to cover the upper half of Harry's face. "How well can you see?"

"Pretty well," Harry answered. Especially since he hadn't even thought of needing glasses since coming to Spira. Maybe death cured people of their eyesight problems? "What about elsewhere? There are other factions of knights, aren't there?"

"Us Bevelle Knights, then the Djose Knights and the Mi'ihen Knights. They both operate mostly in Mi'ihen Highroad, but the Mi'ihen Knights also have people from Kilika and Besaid, while the Djose Knights have people from above Mi'ihen Highroad and from Djose obviously," Tar nodded. "We Bevelle Knights wear the heaviest armours of all of the Chocobo Knights," he added proudly. "Mostly thanks to myself, of course."

"Of course," the wizard answered with a straight face. "What kind of armour do the others wear then?"

Tar scoffed. "The Mi'ihen Knights barely wear any armour at all at times, just jackets and such. We're also the only ones who seriously carry shields – some of the Djose Knights carry them too, sure, but they're mostly more spear and lance oriented. We have the benefit of bigger chocobos, though – the CalmLand chocobos grow a good hundred pounds heavier than other chocobos do."

"Cool," Harry nodded. "So, when will I get a shield?"

"Right now," Tar said, and clapped him heavily on the armoured shoulder. "Come this way and we'll find something that fits you and your naginata."

Harry ended up getting a fairly light and small shield – usable, but definitely smaller than most of the Bevelle Knights used. It was Tar's decision, the man had said that he needed a shield he could easily release if he needed to grip his weapon with both hands, but it was fine for Harry. He had only been in the Knights about a week and he knew well enough it would take months and years before he'd be good enough to make that sort of decision.

"Now. Let's find Mertyn and see what we can cook up for that bird of yours," Tar said, and Harry followed him out of the tent. To be one armoured man among a couple of dozen was definitely better than to be the cloth-wearing novice, he decided, and smiled proudly to himself as they went hunting for the chocobo specialist.

It turned out that the chocobo that had been dubbed as Harry's chocobo had already been kitted up. The bird was now wearing a fairly new looking breast plate proudly, prancing around among the other chocobos and preening all the way.

"I didn't try putting a chamfron on her yet – figured you ought to do that," Metryn explained.

"Chamfron?" Harry asked, a bit confused, and was promptly handed what looked like a helmet for a chocobo. "Oh, okay then. Chamfron," Harry agreed and made a mental note to see if the pieces of his armour had names. They probably weren't all called _guards_ or _plates_.

Shaking his head, he tucked the chamfron under his arm, before approaching the bird that had taken a liking to him. She warbled with slight confusion, tilting her head to the side, before letting out an excited warble and coming closer. Realising that she probably hadn't recognised him under the armour, Harry chuckled softly and scratched the underside of her beak. He had yet to try and ride her, but in the last days she had gotten used to all sort of saddles and had carried even some luggage without a problem.

"Let's see what kind of mood you're in today, shall we?" he asked, and as she cooed happily into his hand, he lifted the chamfron to her head. She took it surprisingly well, pulling back a couple of times and shaking her wings a little, but staying still as he, with Metryn's directions, tied the chamfron on. "Who's my pretty girl? You are, yes you are," Harry cooed to the bird once the face guard was in place, giving her all the scratching she desired.

"Probably better you try riding her now," Mertyn said, as the bird cooed happily at Harry and Tar headed off to pack his things. "If I know the Captain, we'll be moving out within a couple of hours. We'll need to know if you can ride her or if you will be riding with someone before then," the man explained and then grinned. "You're suitably protected now too, if she decides to throw you off."

"Let's try it then," Harry agreed, chuckling.

The bird didn't end up shaking him off – somewhat anticlimactically, she only seemed slightly puzzled to have him on her back, but not too bothered by it. Steering proved to be a bit of a problem as she wasn't used to being commanded around like that, and Harry, though he had learned some about chocobo riding, was no expert at it. After few starts and long moments spent just standing still, they managed to find something resembling unity, and managed to ride a couple of times around the camp without trouble – before she decided that they were going for a run and nearly carried him off the camp entirely.

Harry managed to persuade her to turn back just in time for a couple of knights to see him and decide that him and his overly excited bird needed some weight to slow them down. While Harry tried to keep his chocobo still, the knights added some bags to the saddle, along with one of the already packed tents and some cooking supplies. The chocobo faltered a little under the weight, but mostly because of surprise rather than strain, and seeing that the other birds were getting even heavier loads, Harry didn't feel too worried.

An hour or so later, after everything had been packed with surprising speed and everything had been checked and re-checked, the entire company was ready to move. Harry, who hadn't seen all of the knights in one place before, was surprised at how many of them of them there were – and somewhat disappointed, because really, twenty seven knights wasn't _that_ many when you knew that they were about half of the entire regiment. Fifty, sixty knights wasn't that many – and some eight of them were rookies like him.

"Alright, Chocobo Knights. It's been good training we've been doing, everyone's been working hard," Captain Adrak said, as they lined up – Harry with some difficulty, since his chocobo wanted to get going already and standing still apparently wasn't fun for her.

"Good job everyone," Adrak nodded, before looking ahead. "There's still a long way to go, but we're definitely getting there. Now, first we'll go to Macalania woods, before we move on to Bevelle where we will spend the night. Depending on the time we arrive at Bevelle, you may get the night off." He eyed them in silence for a moment before nodding. "Let's move out," he then said, and turned his chocobo around.

Harry shifted into a better position on his chocobo's saddle, before leaning forward and setting out with the others, as with an impressive thunder of talons against the soil of the plains, they left the camp site. He had no idea how long the journey would be or how fast it would be crossed – chocobos could run pretty fast, after all – but either way, he was fairly sure he was going to be sore by the end of it and, as wonderful as it was to feel things, he wasn't sure if that was a feeling he much liked.

"Do you have a plan?" the ghost boy's voice asked, and glancing over his shoulder Harry saw the kid, sitting behind him with his back against the back plate of wizard's armour.

"I'm working on it," the wizard answered, more in his head than out loud, and looked ahead again, grinning. "I want to see Sin. As a Knight, I think I will get the chance pretty soon."

The boy didn't answer for a long while. "The others are considering alternatives," he then said, leaning his head back against the metal of Harry's armour. "Or maybe you're the alternative. We didn't plan for you, but we planned other things. They think we should hold onto those plans."

"It's always good to have backups. I might well fail," Harry shrugged and glanced at the kid over his shoulder. "Do you have other ghosts in your back pockets you can drag into this world?"

"No," the boy shook his head. "But we have dreams."

 

* * *

 

The Macalania woods were incredible. Harry was sure he hadn't seen anything so beautiful in eons and he had seen the most incredible super novas and gas clouds – even gone through some of them. A forest seemingly growing out of ice _as_ ice, glimmering and sparkling even in the slightest bit of light. And yet, despite being so icy, the place wasn't all that cold – it was damp, sure, but oddly warm considering that there was ice everywhere.

"The winds of the Calm Lands keep this part of the forest warm. Below Bevelle, the Macalania area is cold," Tar said when he mentioned the warmth. "Better enjoy the warmth while it lasts because after Bevelle it's Macalania lake for us, and then the Thunder Plains, and those are just miserable."

"Now you're making me all happy and gleeful that I joined the Knights. All the wonderful travelling you get to do," Harry grinned, lifting his visor and peering up at the sky. The woods had a canopy of what looked like frost flowers. It was just so… incredibly _pretty_ , making him seriously wish he had a camera. "How long until we make it to Bevelle?"

"Not long – we should be there well before nightfall," Tar answered. "We'll be on the actual road soon – travelling will be quicker then."

Harry hummed a little at that and shook his head. He wouldn't have minded if they had spent an eternity in the woods – but to know that there would be more of them after Bevelle was welcome. He could keep on staring at them afterwards. He needed to get a map of Spira, seriously. Or at least the local areas, just so that he wouldn't be completely in the dark about it.

Sighing, he leaned his head back, and let the chocobo follow the others as it willed, and just stared. The Calm Lands had been a practical feast for his sense of smell, and Macalania woods was definitely one for his eyes. The passing gratitude for having miraculously repaired eyesight returned now with full force and contently he smiled, knowing he'd remember the place long after he had left Spira behind. It was just so very pretty….

It was in the Macalania woods that both Harry and his chocobo started to feel the weight of their respective armours. Harry's shoulders were starting to ache and it felt like he couldn't move his arms at all, while below him the chocobo drooped a little, swaying as it took steps. While Harry considered cheating and starting to add featherweight charms onto everything, or maybe losing some of the plates – of all the knights, only he and Adrak were wearing full sets – the knights at his side chuckled.

"You don't think I put you in full armour for no reason, do you?" Tar scoffed. "No, you need to get used to the weight. You and especially your bird. "

"Oh. That makes sense," Harry nodded slowly. No feather weight charms then, it wouldn't be much in the way of training if he cheated. Sighing he patted his chocobo's neck. "Hang in there, girl."

"We'll be in Bevelle soon, you both can lose some of the weight then," Mertyn chuckled and then gave him a thoughtful look. "Have you thought of a name for your bird yet?"

Harry frowned. He hadn't given it any thought. Glancing down, he gave the brilliant yellow chocobo he was riding a thoughtful look, wondering. Reaching out, he ran his gloved hand over the bright feathers of his bird's back and nodded to himself. "Sol," he said, and the bird let out a happy warble in answer.

"Sol," Mertyn said slowly and nodded. "Does it mean something?"

"It's the old name of a star I once knew," Harry answered, smiling a little at the memory. When Earth had gone into its icy sleep, the Sun really had tried to keep it warm. It hadn't felt so cold, with the sun always shining, even when the entire planet had been covered by miles of ice.

Shaking his head, Harry patted Sol's neck before looking up ahead. By the looks of it, they had finally found the road – if it could be called that, it was really only a slightly wider path through the beautiful frozen forests. "Ten more miles until Bevelle," Adrak called from the front. "Let's step up the pace a little."

 

* * *

 

Bevelle was like nothing Harry had imagined. After seeing the tent-building of the Calm Lands store, and the tents of the Chocobo Knights, he had suspected that the city would be fairly simplistic, maybe a bit exotic in terms of design, but probably kind of plain.

It was so far from plain and simple that he felt a little embarrassed. It was _incredible_. It stood some twenty meters high on a sort of enormous platform, with walls looping around it, most likely to protect it from Sin. Inside the walls, the buildings were mostly made of red stone and the designs were incredibly artistic – in the way Earth's architecture had been once, before function had started to become more important than appearances, except in a completely different way. The city arched and looped and so did the buildings – and more than that, the city reached upwards in the form of sturdy towers and bridges that crossed between sections of what seemed to be a palace.

"The temple gets me every time," Metryn sighed, looking up to the palace and making a strange gesture with his hands, like holding a ball, before bowing his head. Harry gave him a considering look and then glanced at the others to see that many of them were making the same gestures, bowing their heads at the _temple_. Looking up again, Harry wondered if he was seeing Spira's version of Mecca or something.

"Alright. We will go straight to the barracks and tend to our chocobos," Adrak called to them, as they made their way idly down a wide, carefully paved street. "Once we are done, you can have the night to yourselves. Go see your families if you have them – it is unlikely we will make it back to Bevelle for a while, once we join our brothers in Mi'ihen Highroad. Just be back and ready to go by sunrise."

"But just because you're going to have a night off, that does not mean you get to neglect your birds," Mertyn added sharply. "I see one feather out of line and I will have your hides!"

The knights chuckled at that, but Harry could see a couple of them sharing slightly guilty glances, apparently having considered it. Grinning, Harry patted Sol's neck and then leaned a little forward to urge the bird to follow the others, as Adrak sped up and the others followed suit.

The Chocobo Knight barracks were a bit grander than he had suspected they would be, after the tents – but considering how the rest of Bevelle looked, maybe it wasn't that big of a shock. The building was grand, with four stories and that same arching beauty that seemed to be designed into every building of Bevelle. The stables were in the first floor and the quarters for the knights were above judging by the looks of it – and there was a small pasture for the chocobos on the side.

They got down from their saddles in front of the stables, and judging by the warbling and kwehing of some of them, they knew they were home. Harry and Sol followed Mertyn and Berka inside through high double doors obviously made to fit a chocobo to see that the stables, while not exactly high fashion, also followed the same designs as the front of the building.

"That one's empty, you can put Sol there. You can get some fresh hay from the back – and there should be chocobo feed in the pails to the left," Mertyn said. "Better remove his gear and armour first, though."

Harry did, glad that he had been taught the motions even if he hadn't practiced them on Sol first. He removed the chamfrom and the chest plate before going about taking off the packs and finally freeing his bird from the saddle and reigns. While Sol flapped her wings and stretched her neck, happy to be free of the burden, Harry turned to the stable.

Keeping a chocobo in the fields and keeping one in a stable were two different things and the stables took some more work than a simple green pasture did. Harry didn't mind the work, as he spread some hay for his chocobo to rest on, and then got Sol something to eat – though he would've preferred not being in full bleeding armour while he was doing it. By the time he was done and Sol was happily making herself comfortable in the spot he had painstakingly made for her, he was sweating like a river and actually getting pretty tired.

A dead man getting tired. What a notion.

"Come on, rookie," Tar said, after getting his own sturdy bird into a stable. "Let's go upstairs, I want to see you removing that armour."

"Yes, sir," Harry answered. After carefully hanging the saddle and the plates into their designated places, he collected what little belongings he had – which mostly consisted of his old clothing, his naginata and shield – and followed the elder knight. Tar led him to the stairs and up to what seemed to be a common room of sorts, and then into a changing room where there were racks especially set out for people's armour and gear.

"Alright. Here's a spot for you. Get to it," Tar said, pointing at a locker and a rack and folding his arms expectantly. Sighing, Harry got to work.

Wearing armour was awesome. Getting it off after wearing it for hours was _heaven_.

"Okay, passable," Tar said, after Harry had finished by hanging the shin guards on the rack. "We'll have to go through the motions a couple of times for you to get efficient at it, not to mention the fact that you probably have no idea how to put the armour back on, but we'll get to that later. Now, let's stretch you back into shape before your back gets permanently stuck in that slouch."

Correction, Harry groaned in his head. If getting armour off always included torturous session of stretching afterwards, then it was hell.

By the time Tar pronounced him about ready and went to get another poor novice to stretch out of shape, Harry felt like all the bones in his body were screaming for a vacation, and his muscles were already trying to escape to one. The high of having a body was definitely coming down, he decided as he leaned his head from side to side and listened to his spine crackle. He hadn't though that, despite not needing food or sleep, he could still feel this sort of tiredness and pain. It was still probably nowhere near as bad as it could've been if he had been alive, but still. The deal with the dead of this world wasn't looking as perfect as it had.

"Come on," one of the other novices said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Let's get washed and changed and see if we can find a place to soothe our sores and aches in. Preferably with large amounts of liquor."

"I like that plan," Harry groaned in answer and rubbed his aching shoulder. What was with these people and clapping other people on the shoulders? Especially when those shoulders were covered by armour-bruises and sores.

Regardless of that, or how the other novice laughed at him, he went, after a nice warm bath and a quick change into his robe-cloak which was really a jacket. Bevelle's nightlife turned out to be about as nice looking as it's day life, with the pub they went to being one of the fanciest pubs ever – regardless of the fact that it was also, apparently, Bevelle's cheapest. It had fancy lightning and fancy tables and fancy chairs and the waitresses were all very fancy too.

After a few shots of some berry liquor from Besaid, though, Harry didn't really care. Dead people could get drunk. Who knew?

 

* * *

 

Dead people didn't get hangovers, apparently, of which Harry felt very glad of in the morning when Tar kicked him and the other novices out of their bunks. He wasn't entirely sure how or when he had gotten there the previous night – or why he had decided to go to sleep when he didn't even need sleep. Things had gone a bit blurry after the fifth shot, and all he could remember was that there had been a really nice statue in the bar and that he had probably spent most of the night marvelling at it.

"Get up, you knaves," Tar spat at them. "We're setting off in an hour and Adrak wants you lot washed and tidied before we go. Up, up and to it!"

While the other novices moaned about sadists and Sin spawns, Harry stretched his arms experimentally. The kinks of wearing armour were still there, but not as bad as the previous night. Happy and not just a little bit gleeful, he jumped up, and left his hangover suffering fellow novices to their gruelling tasks of trying to get up from their beds, and went to find a shower.

"You know, I say this with all the respect I can possibly muster, but you're weird as hell," said one of the other novices, after staggering to the shower as well.

"It was a pretty statue," Harry said a bit defensively, though he couldn't remember much about it. "You… are talking about the statue, right?" he then asked, wondering if he had done something else except marvel the statue. He might've.

"Well, that was weird too, but I'm talking about the girl. She kept throwing herself at you and you, what, taught her how to do tricks with gil?" the other man frowned, trying to remember.

"Oh, that. Meh," Harry answered, and turned to the shower. He remembered it, vaguely. A young woman with long bright red hair. She had been pretty alright. She had also been a she. And a redhead. "Not my game, that."

"Not your _game_? The hell?"

Harry shrugged. "Lost my taste for women after my first marriage," he answered honestly. Ginny had been a handful and a half. "And you don't need to be so mad about it – I tried to push the gal to you, didn't I? Can you pass me the soap?"

The other novice gave him a strange look but passed the soap. "After your first marriage. You still got married again?"

"Yeah, did. Three times. Just, not to women," Harry shrugged and got back to washing. There was a long silence before the other novice barked a laugh and got to washing as well, shaking his head and chuckling every now and then. He probably thought it was a joke. Harry shrugged again and ignored it in favour of washing his hair.

After washing and drying and dressing up in the padded leathers, Harry got back into his armour with Tar watching the process carefully and correcting him when he was about to strap something on wrong. Once he was done and Tar had moved onto helping the other novices, Harry got his things, his shield and his naginata, and then headed down to the stables to see Sol – who, like the other chocobos, were warbling and kwehing in their stables, all ready to go.

Well, not quite. Harry sighed and set his things down so that he could tend to Sol – to gear her and get her ready for travel. Once she was set and waiting in the pen, he went about cleaning the stable. Another thing that had been easier to handle in the plains, he mused.

"Good, we're all here," Adrak said once they had all gathered outside – and that was really all of them. Harry, who stood on the side with Sol and the other novices and their birds, watched with a little bit of awe as the fifty senior knights all stood in a neat line with their armoured birds standing stock still beside them. How long had they trained, he wondered while doing his best to keep Sol from acting up.

"We'll set out in a moment. Lieutenant Darak will go first with her squadron, as they're the fastest, then Lieutenant Harna and her squadron. Myself, my Knights and the novices will keep the tail. We will meet at the Macalania temple in two days," the Captain said. "Any questions?" he waited for a moment and when no one said anything he nodded. "Alright. Darak, you can go."

"Yes, sir!" the short haired woman snapped and turned to the dozen knights around her. "Chocobo Knights, move out!"

As the first squad headed off, the talons of their birds drumming a tattoo onto the pavement, Adrak turned to the novices. "Any of you unfamiliar with southern Macalania? Don't be shy, we need to know if you're poorly kitted for the weather."

Harry lifted his hand, along with one other novice. Adrak eyed them and then nodded. "Tar, see to that they have proper gear. We don't want any of us catching cold," he said, glancing at the armourer before turning to the novices again. "The Macalania mountains are cold, the coldest place you will probably ever see. The winds can push you down and if you fall into the rivers, it is unlikely that you will survive the aftermath. So I don't want any fooling around on the road – you stick to the path and follow your seniors, they know what to do better than you do. And if you know what's good for you, you'll keep your bird constantly on the move and warm. Their feathers will protect them, but not from everything. Any questions?"

Harry lifted one hand. "Just one, sir. Is it wise to wear armour in there if it's so cold? The metal's not exactly good for keeping warm." Even the senior knights were all in full armour now – as were their birds. It was very impressive looking, all the men and women gleaming in the sunlight with their helmet tails bright and proud, but it wasn't very functional in cold weather.

"Good point. However, the mountains are infested with fiends. We need the protection of armour more than we need to stay warm – fiends will kill us faster than the weather will," Adrak said and nodded to them. "Tar, see that the novices are kitted," he said, turning away. "You have half an hour."

"Right, right. Come on you lot, let's get to it," Tar said, and leaving Sol in the hands of Metryn, Harry followed him with the other novices.

Kitting this time meant the addition of cloaks and capes to their outfits. Dark red leather cloaks which went over the armour and fur lined white capes which were attached to the shoulder guards, to be exact.

"These won't save your life in the tundra, but they will keep you warm while you ride. I suggest you keep your helmets on and your visors down, it'll protect you from the wind," Tar said, after showing them how to attach the capes. "Now pack them up. You won't be wearing them until we make it to the mountains – pull them on before and you'll boil in your armour."

After bundling the new pieces of cloth, Harry and the other novices returned outside, where the second squadron of knights had already left.

"Alright, let's mount and move out. We're wasting the morning, standing around here," Adrak said, and after he had exchanged a few words with the knights who would be staying behind in the barracks, he left the knights out of Bevelle and towards the south.


	3. Chapter 3

The knights hadn't been kidding about how cold it was in the Macalania mountains. A few miles into the snowier areas of the mountains, Adrak stopped their advance so that everyone could pull their cloaks and capes on. Some even added woollen hats under their helmets for extra warmth – Harry nearly wished he had one too, before just going with the easiest solution and casting a warming charm on the thing. Then, with capes flapping behind them rather dramatically, they set out again, the chocobos trekking on the snowy paths with ease.

The mountains, though excruciatingly cold, were magnificent to see. High and pure white and shining in the sunlight. Harry had to wonder if they were Spira's highest mountains or if there some other higher ones somewhere – and how was it that they were colder than the calm lands, which were more to the north… but in the end, it didn't matter that much. All that really matter was getting through them without freezing to death. That, and enjoying the spectacular view while it lasted.

They spent a fairly miserable night on the side of one of the mountains, cooped up in tents and trying to keep warm. Mostly they succeeded, huddling together and sharing body warmth, but for Harry it was a long and boring and cold night, as he couldn't have slept in the howling of the wind, even if he had figured out the trick of sleeping without alcohol's involvement.

He blessed his death-born insomnia though, when the knights on guard sounded the alarm via a horn, calling "FIENDS!" for all the camp to hear. Harry was the first one of the novices up and armed, and among the first knights ready to fight, when the pack of canine-like fiends attacked.

"Snow wolves," Adrak snapped. "Fastest fighters to the front, those in back will pull back anyone who gets hit with a status attack! Harry, to the side, try and hit them with magic when we distract them!"

"Yes, sir!" the knights snapped. Harry ran around the knights to the side, and while Adrak, Tar and Metryn attacked, he swung the naginata to the front, trying to figure what to use, what would be safest to use without needing to fear hitting the other knights.

The fight started before he could decide, and he was forced to act, rather than think. The wolves were fast, flitting around the knights and trying to take bites out of their ankles and knees. Harry, though, was more worried about the two wolves on the side, who were dashing towards the wind-shield they erected to protect the chocobos from the elements.

"Reducto!" Harry growled, swinging the Naginata heavily and sending the cutting magic at the wolves. He grinned fleetingly as the creatures were instantly sliced – and then raised an eyebrow at the way they just burst apart and into flickering lights that seemed to spread in each direction. It was kind of pretty, but definitely weird. Was _that_ how things died here, they just… turned into little flaming balls of magic?

He didn't have the time to wonder about that now, he decided, and turned around – just in time to see a monster making its way towards him. Hurriedly he raised his shield and fitted the naginata's handle into the lance-hold on his armour, before stepping forward like Tar had tried to teach him, and bracing for the impact. The wolf realised the danger too late and slammed right into the blade of Harry's weapon, where it hung for a moment, growling, before bursting into flickering lights as well.

Around him, the other wolves were bursting apart under the attacks of the knights, but there was still more of the wolves advancing – and there were already a handful of knights down and being dragged back by the others. While wondering what they were exactly and how the whole fiend thing worked, Harry released his naginata from the lance hold and swung it forward again. A stupefy saved one of his fellow knights from being slammed into, and another reductor curse took care of another wolf.

Adrak took care of the last of the wolves, having managed to avoid being hit. He used a lance like a master, Harry noted while watching in amazement how the man thrust and pierced one wolf after another, leaving only a trail of flickering lights behind him. It was obvious he had seen battle before.

"Report! Casualties?" the Captain barked out as soon as all the fiends had been taken care off.

"No deaths. Janeh, Metryn, Dan and Hara all got hit by Sleep, though," Tar grunted back from where he was checking the four knights. "Hara got hit bad," he added, nodding at one female knight who lay on the snow beside him. "I doubt she'll be waking up anytime soon."

Sleep? Harry frowned slightly and stepped forward, winging his naginata to his shoulder. "I've never fought these fiends before," he said smoothly. "They… make you sleep?"

"Yeah. They have magic that, if you get hit by it, knocks you out cold. They can also block magic, but it's the sleep that usually gets people," Adrak said, coming closer. He sighed, running a gloved hand over his chin. "I guess we have to use a remedy on Hara at least," he sighed. "I was hoping to save those until later."

"Sir, mind if I try something?" Harry asked. "If it's just sleep, I might have a spell that might wake them up?"

"You said you didn't know Esuna," Tar said, scowling at him.

"I don't," Harry agreed. "But I know another one that's specifically meant for waking people up. Should I try it, sir?"

"Go ahead. If it will save us some potions, I'll be more than happy to let you cast any magic you can," Adrak said, and then watched how Harry pointed the handle of his naginata at the sleeping Hara.

Rennervate, it turned out, worked just as well against magically caused sleep as it had back on Earth. All four knights woke up after Harry hit them with the spell, looking a little disoriented, but none too worse for wear.

"Good, that's good," Adrak said, after Tar had checked the four over. "I would've liked it better if I had known you could do that before, but now that I know I will keep it in mind. It will no doubt save lives before long." He nodded and stood up, looking at the other knights and the messed up campsite. "We can't stay here – the Pyreflies will attract more fiends here. Best we start packing up and get going – it's almost morning in any case. We can rest when we get to the Macalania temple."

"Yes sir," the now yawning knights answered and while a couple of them made them some hasty breakfast, the rest pulled down the tents and repacked them. Harry helped here and there before going to check up on Sol. The chocobos had been a bit spooked by the fight, but other than being a little wild around the eyes, they looked more or less fine.

"There's my good girl," Harry said, approaching the chocobo to scratch her neck compassionately. "A miserable night, wasn't it? Let's get you and the others something to eat, shall we?" he asked, and after she cooed her slightly sleepy answer, he turned to help Metryn with taking care of the chocobo's feeding.

An hour or so and some lukewarm soup later, they were on the move again, taking it a bit slower this time, since it was still a bit too dark to go at a chocobo's running speed safely. As the sun begun to come up from behind the mountains, the early awakening stopped seeming like such a bad thing – the sunrise was a magnificent sight as it shed light onto the white mountainsides, making them glimmer and glow.

It could've been the start of a beautiful day, if the fiends hadn't attacked soon after the sun had risen.

 

* * *

 

By the time they made it to Macalania lake, they had run into four different packs of fiends. The fights those time had been easier to handle, with all the knights mounted and in their element the wolves hadn't stood a chance – and neither had whatever the other beasts had been. Harry hadn't even needed to cast awakening spells more than three times, and two of those times he had had to do it on chocobos, rather than their riders.

Despite the easy victory in the fights, there was relief in everyone's faces when they arrived at the Macalania lake. "Just a few more miles and we'll be at the temple entrance," one of them sighed, stretching his arms. "I can't wait to have a go at the baths."

"I just want some shut eye for longer than a couple of hours," another answered, and cajoling about what they would enjoy at the temple, they set forward again, Harry listened to them curiously, wondering. The way he understood it was that the Summoners got their Aeons from temples – like the huge palace of a temple at Bevelle and this one. But the way the knights talked about it, they made it sound like a luxury hotel, rather than a spiritual place.

"Have you ever been to the Macalania temple?" Metryn asked Harry.

"The only temple I've ever seen is the Bevelle one, and I've never been inside it," Harry answered honestly. "What is it like, the Macalania temple?"

"It's the second biggest temple – just after the Bevelle temple, of course," the chocobo specialist said. "It's the only place where people can stop between Thunder Plains and Bevelle, though, so among all the temples, the Macalania one has the best accommodations for travellers. You have to pay for it, of course, unless you're a Summoner or a Guardian, but it's well worth it. Especially since High Priest Seymour took over High Priest Adarkan's role." The man sighed and smiled wistfully. "He added the baths."

Harry grinned slightly. "I guess that would make the place a whole lot more attractive in this place," he murmured, looking around them. Ice, ice and more ice. Very pretty, but a hot bath sounded pretty awesome after all of it. "I'll be looking forward to seeing the famed baths, then."

The Macalania temple itself, it turned out, was neither on the ice nor the lake, but underneath it. The entrance, which stood unassumingly in the side of an icy cliff, let them into an enormous ice cavern, in the middle of which stood the temple. Harry wasn't entirely sure what it was made of, or how, but it looked like the most important building materials were ice and snow. Even the bridge leading from the cavern entrance to the temple suspended in the middle of the cavern was ice.

"Keep your chocobo's in reign. If you fall from here, you won't make it even with the luck of Sin himself," Adrak warned them, before they started making their way across the icy bridge and towards the temple. Harry was having a hard time hiding his awe at the whole thing – the whole thing was just, in word, _magnificent_. How anyone had managed to make it he had no idea. Magic, maybe? A _whole_ lot of magic. Epic amounts of it.

Harry shook his head slightly and finally managed to close his mouth as they carefully made their way down to the temple entrance. And he had thought that the Macalania woods were pretty. _Merlin_.

They were met at the temple entrance by a couple of men, both of them wearing a very impressive sets of robes and one of them looking somewhat unusual. He had long arms with almost sharp looking long fingers with what looked like branches and roots for hair.

"You must be Captain Adrak and his knights," the man with branches for hair said, as the Captain dismounted. The branch-haired man did the weird ball thing with his hands, bowing his head. "Welcome to the temple of Macalania. I am adept Giyal, at your service."

"Thank you for your words of welcome, we're very honoured to be here," Adrak said, answering the bow in kind. "I trust everything has been well here, at the temple."

"Oh yes, we have been enjoying a very peaceful and quiet month," the adept nodded and then motioned them to enter. "Your lieutenants have already arrived and we have made accommodations ready for you and your party. This way."

"We need to tend to our chocobos, Adept Giyal," Metryn said, stepping forward to take Adrak's bird's reigns. "Do you mind if we head straight for the stables?"

"Of course, of course, please do," the adept said, and nodded at the robed man at his side, "Priest Denet will show you the way."

Harry and most of the knights followed the human priest, while Adrak headed inside with the man. "You've never seen a Guado before?" Metryn asked, noticing Harry's slightly confused look.

"Hm. You could say I grew up under a rock," Harry shrugged sheepishly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare."

"It's okay, not many are adjusted to seeing them so much. They don't come out of the Guadosalam much," Metryn nodded thoughtfully. "It hasn't been more than twenty years since Maester Jyscal took the word of Yevon to the Guado, has it? And the Guado are pretty withdrawn folk anyway, I haven't seen more than four or so in Bevelle in my whole life. Except for Maester Jyscal, of course."

"Right," Harry nodded, as if he knew what he was talking about. He made a mental note to keep his ears open for Guados and Maester Jyscal, whoever he was.

The temple stables were even finer than the ones the Knights had in Bevelle, and remarkably well stocked considering that the place was almost literally in the middle of nowhere. Harry took his time using the fine brushes of the stables to tend to Sol's plumage after taking off her gear, warming the bird up a bit before feeding her and leaving her to rest in the stables. There was no point wasting a fine thing when it was offered, after all.

He and Metryn entered the temple proper together, and again it was all Harry could do to stop himself from gaping like the tourist he was. The front hall of the temple alone was amazing, with crystal for a floor and statues and paintings and such everywhere. There were other people there, what looked like priests and a few travellers who were resting and talking amongst themselves – a few were, by the looks of it, praying.

"This way. The residential quarters are up here – that way's to the Cloister of Trials, it's off limits for everyone but Summoners and their Guardians," Metryn said, nodding towards the stairs leading up directly in the middle of the room. Harry nodded absently and followed him to the other way, up a staircase and across a corridor to a large meeting room, where the rest of the knights were. Adept Giyal was there, talking with Adrak.

"… is here?" Adrak was asking. "Would it be at all possible to arrange a meeting with him? I would very much like to pay my respects to the High Priest."

"I am sorry. High Priest Seymour is currently performing the Prayer of Silence, and it is unlikely he will be emerging from his chambers anytime soon," the adept said, shaking his head. "I will be happy to bring your regards to him, but I do hope you understand that a High Priest's spiritual duties will always take the highest priority in a temple's life."

"Of course. I would not wish to disturb the High Priest," Adrak nodded. "So long he knows we appreciate his hospitality."

"Indeed," the adept nodded his head slowly. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have duties to attend to. All the areas of the temple are open for you, except for the Cloister of Trials and of course the personal quarters of the priests. I hope you all will enjoy your stay here and do not forget to spend a moment in prayer for those lost and those still wandering." The adept bowed again, doing the weird hand gesture, before turning and heading away.

"Well then. It seems we have some time to relax here," Adrak said, turning to the knights. "I'm sure you're all eager to go, so I won't keep you from the baths. Just keep a civil tongue in your heads and do not disgrace the knights. You are all dismissed."

"Sir!" the knights answered in unison, before scattering. While following a couple of the other novices towards what he assumed was the bathing areas, Harry had to wonder about the temple. It had so easily enough space to accommodate some sixty knights. The place must've gotten some enormous traffic – not to mention about funding.

Then he saw the baths and decided that he really didn't care. Because, seriously, _hot baths_.

 

* * *

 

After bathing and taking a moment to see if his armour needed any work done, Harry pulled on the leathers and the cloak and cape of a knight before venturing out to explore the temple. Almost every other knight was doing the same, so he didn't see any harm in it – and there was no way he was going to let the opportunity pass. The place was too beautiful, way, way too beautiful. The corridors, the stairs, the ceiling of all things – not to mention about the incredible scenery behind every window…

Maybe it was no wonder the place was big and so well made and funded – Harry could've lived in the place quite happily and never gotten bored to. There was just too much to watch, to look at, to stare like an idiot at. The mixture of human handiwork and nature's own designs, it was just fascinating to watch.

"So you are him," a quiet female voice spoke from behind him as he looked out one of the windows, and glancing over his shoulder he saw a ghostly figure of a robed woman standing there. "You are the one from space."

"I suppose you could call me that," Harry answered, turning to face the woman. She… felt the same as the ghostly kid. "You are one of the Fayth?" he guessed.

"Yes. I am the Fayth of Shiva," the woman nodded. "Like the boy you have met before was the Fayth of Bahamut," she added and then spent a quiet moment eyeing him. "He has told us that you do not wish to become a Summoner. You do not think you need our aid."

"It probably would be useful, yeah, and I might end up only messing everything up and failing spectacularly… but no, I don't want to become a Summoner. It's the praying I can't handle, though, not you especially," Harry answered. "I'm not that big on that sort of things these days, sorry."

The woman eyed him silently and then smiled slightly. "If what he told us is true, then I do not wonder that," she mused, stepping forward and looking out of the window. After a moment, she sighed. "I am not like him," she admitted. "He is old. The oldest one among us. I became long after him, with the help of Lady Yunalesca," she said. "I do not feel as tired as he does. But the pain is the same."

Harry hummed in answer, before sitting down onto the elaborate windowsill. "I'm not surprised, if it's the way I figure it is," he mused, looking outside. "I am going to try and help. Seriously, I am. But I'm going to do it my way."

"Yes, and in the meantime we will do what we can, however we can do it," the woman agreed.

"As you should," Harry nodded, leaning his head against the windowsill and closing his eyes for a moment before looking up at her. "You were normal human once, weren't you?"

She nodded. "I was a priestess of Yevon, four hundred years ago. They allowed women into the higher priesthood back then, now they can only ordain as nuns or acolytes," she mused. "I was also a Summoner – born and raised in Kilika."

"What made you become a Fayth?" the wizard asked curiously. "How does that happen anyway?"

"Lady Yunalesca has the power to grant that ability to a soul. She is the one who waits in Zanarkand, and grants Summoners with the Final Summoning," the Fayth said, and sighed. "I went to my pilgrimage alone, and I thrived and I succeeded. I collected the Aeons, I mastered all the summoning arts. But when I arrived at Zanarkand, I was alone. I never had a Guardian, so I wasn't able to become a High Summoner.

Harry paused a little at that. "You… _need_ a Guardian for the Final Summoning?"

"He didn't tell you?" the female Fayth asked. "I don't wonder. It is not the exact highpoint of a Summoner's career people make it seem. The Final Summoning as people think of it does not exist – there is no Fayth in Zanarkand, only Lady Yunalesca, the first Summoner to ever have defeated Sin. She can, however, create Aeons – and among those she can create is the brief, most powerful creature this world will see, the Final Aeon… the living Aeon, created from the soul of a Summoner's sacrificed Guardian."

Harry scowled. So that was it. "And together they defeat Sin?" he asked quietly.

"Yes. Only, the energy required to call upon the Final Summon will drain the Summoner – and the power driving Sin forward is endless, and cannot be destroyed so long as something remains. Sin dies – and the power that creates it takes its vanquisher. And so the Final Aeon, the Guardian of the new, deceased High Summoner… becomes Sin." The Fayth shook her head, sighing. "Yunalesca told me this. I could not do it, I had no Guardian, there was no one in the world that would've helped me in that moment. She offered me an alternate way to keep on fighting Sin, and I took it. And so I became the Fayth of Shiva."

She was quiet for a moment and Harry didn't know what to say, exactly. "Sometimes I wonder if it was the right choice. So many winters has passed since then, so many Summoners have prayed to me… and Sin still remains. Sometimes I wonder if the world is getting smaller, or if Sin is getting bigger."

"Things may seem that way, after a while," Harry nodded, thinking of Voldemort. "But nothing is forever. Not even Sin. If it can be stopped momentarily, then there is also a way to stop it completely."

"You truly believe that?" the Fayth asked quietly.

"Immortality is never anything but an illusion, and even monsters tend to have soft, squishy insides," Harry answered calmly. He smiled at the Fayth, who eyed him, looking like she didn't dare to hope. "I can't promise with absolute conviction that I will succeed. I'm not stupid enough for that. But I can promise to try as long as I am able to. If there is a way, I will do what I can to find it."

The Fayth sighed and then smiled. "I believe you," she whispered. "I wondered why he did. Especially when you declined our Aeons, our aid. I wondered how someone like him, such an old Fayth, such a wise Fayth, could still believe you… but I see it now. You have something… special."

"It's called a lack of survival instincts," Harry laughed, and reached out to pat her shoulder in the way so many knights had patted his. "But don't put all your eggs in one basket. Whatever I am, I'm still just one guy. I will do all I can and more, but if I fail… well, then I fail, and that's that."

"Yes," the Fayth agreed. "We will move forward also, but perhaps…"

She trailed away and turned around. Harry blinked and glanced up as well, to see that they had company. There was a man standing nearby where the corridor arched away, and for a moment Harry could only stare with shock. Not only did the man have the most elaborate robe he had seen yet in Spira, but his hair was… awe striking. And gravity defying. And _blue_.

"Please forgive me," the man said softly, and Harry's gaze zeroed into his eyes. "I did not mean to interrupt your conversation. I shall leave, if you wish it so."

Harry didn't answer at first, just staring. The knowledge that the man had overheard came to him somewhat belatedly, following with the thought that the man could see the Fayth. Feeling oddly dull minded, Harry glanced at the female Fayth, who sighed.

"It is time I return to my crystal. I am not as strong as he is, and straying too far leaves me tired," she said, turning to Harry. "You will… keep your promise," she said, and it didn't sound like a question.

"I will," Harry promised, and stood up from the windowsill. He wasn't going to do that weird hand thing everyone did, he didn't know the significance or the meaning well enough, but he did bow to the Fayth. She had been pleasant enough conversationalist – not to mention a great source of information. "It was a pleasure to talk with you. Give my regards to the other Fayth."

"I shall," she nodded, and bowed to him, fading away before she managed to straighten her back. Sighing, Harry ran his hand somewhat sheepishly over his hair, and turned to the blue haired man. Blue haired, _purple_ eyed, and with a _great_ face.

Merlin, but he loved Spira. Even the people were so pretty.

"Sorry about that," he said and smiled. "I hope I didn't bother you or anything. Are you a Summoner?" Had he been keeping the Fayth from her duties?

"In a… fashion, I suppose I am," the man agreed, leaning back a little and giving him a curious look. "You are one as well, I suppose, seeing that you are capable of conversing with the Fayth."

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "Nah," he answered. "I've met a couple of them, but I'm no Summoner," he answered, sitting back down on the window sill. Smiling, he glanced outside. After spending some minutes looking away, the view outside looked almost new – and even more spectacular than before. "This place is so beautiful," he mused and glanced at the blue haired man, who had left the wall and was approaching him. "Have you visited this place often?"

"I suppose I have," the man said, and as he stepped closer, more of his face came to view. He had blue veins across his forehead and cheek bones – and somehow, they made him look even better. No to mention the fact that he had a very revealing neckline on his robes. And _tattoos_ on his chest. "That cloak…" the blue haired man said, looking at Harry's clothing. "You are one of the Chocobo Knights spending the night here."

"Just a novice," Harry admitted, grinning and then winked. "If you see them, don't tell them about the Fayth, okay? It's a long story, and not really their problem."

"But surely they would be only glad to know that among them is someone who can converse with the Fayth," the man said, folding his long fingers elegantly together and hiding his hands in the large sleeves of his robes – but not before Harry saw what incredibly long nails he had.

"It's not what I want to be known for, all I would do was stand out and make myself seem like something I'm not," Harry answered honestly. The less he was known the better, it tended to be.

"Like a Summoner," the man agreed thoughtfully, casting him a considering glance. "You would not wish this, even if it would open you doors, grant you privileges?"

"What's the fun in that?" Harry asked, laughing. "Nothing's worth anything unless you've shed your sweat and blood to get it," he shook his head, and looked outside. "To have privileges and things handed to you because of them would be boring. If I wanted them, I wouldn't have joined an organization such as the Chocobo Knights."

"Indeed?" the man asked and hummed when Harry only shrugged his shoulders. "I… must confess, I overheard some of your conversation with the Fayth," the blue haired man admitted after a moment, and only age and experience and a former career in politics made Harry stop himself from freezing at that. "You promised the Fayth that you would defeat Sin."

"I only promised to try my best," Harry corrected. "There is a difference."

"Yes, but she believed you. She trusted you. A _Fayth_ ," the man said, meeting his eyes head on with his own, pale purple ones. "And you are not a Summoner."

"You don't think anyone but a Summoner could do it?" Harry asked and shrugged, looking away before he would get tempted. The man's face when he was serious… and _blimey_ , his hair was tempting. Harry probably was more curious than he ought to be about how the man's hair defied gravity. Was it gel or maybe some sort of device or… "Think what you will," he said, more to distract himself than to answer. "It makes no difference to me."

"A Fayth trusts you, a non Summoner, to defeat Sin…" the man murmured. "Do you think you can?"

"Let me get back to you on that after I've tried," Harry grinned at the man's reflection in the glass of the window.

"What powers do you have, I wonder, to gain you such trust…?" the blue haired man pondered. "What strength?"

Harry shook his head, smiling. Why did people get so hung up on that? So many people on Earth had too, in the years since Voldemort's death, asking him what special abilities he had, what kind of unique spells he knew, to grant him such a victory.

"It's not like that," he said, like he had to so many people before, and shrugged his shoulder. "It's not the power you have that matters – it's the strength that builds up to face the challenge ahead. The weakest man of the world can become the strongest, with enough motivation." He smiled and shook his head. "True power doesn't come to those who seek it – it comes to those who _need_ it. That's what I reckon anyway."

"Then, you think that to seek it is foolishness," the man said, now with hint of edge in his voice.

"Not necessarily. Everyone wants to become stronger – hell, I train every day to become stronger," Harry laughed. "And I probably will for a while longer. But power like, say, the power to save someone or maybe the power to kill someone. That can't be _practiced_ for, or _accumulated_. It comes if it will, if the time and place and everything is just right. You can't command something like that."

"I think the power to kill someone is easily gained," the blue haired man murmured, looking up and through the glass of the window. Curious, Harry glanced up at him over his shoulder and, for a moment, he worried.

"People are easy to kill," he said finally, quietly. "So easy, in fact, that what's the point?"

The blue haired man frowned, and turned his purple eyes down to face him. "What's… the point?" he asked slowly. "It could be everything."

Harry tilted his head a bit. "Like what?"

"Revenge. Or justice," the man said.

"Revenge is about retribution for things that can't be changed, mostly, so no point there," Harry answered. "And justice is the same but with bit of righteousness thrown in the mix."

The blue haired man turned his eyes to him, a bit of frown on his face. "So you wouldn't kill a man, despite being a warrior like you are?"

"Oh, I'll kill a man in a heart beat, if that man was a threat to those around him, and killing him so would save lives," Harry shrugged. "But never for any other reason."

The purple eyes narrowed slightly. "It sounds as if you speak from experience, Knight."

"And it sounds a bit like you're contemplating murder," Harry said, and stood up. He was nearly a head's worth shorter than the blue haired man – not to mention the fact that the man's hair made him seem even taller, thanks to the gravity defying style.

The wizard didn't care though. While the man eyed him suspiciously, Harry reached his hands up and then, grinning, ran them through the thick blue locks, and then right through the strange horns they seemed to form. His grin widened into a surprised laugh as he realised that it was _natural_ , the man's hair had no gel or any other substances in it whatsoever! Blue hair which, _naturally_ , formed into the weirdest shapes he had ever seen!

Spira was really such an awesome place. Even the hair of the people of this world was just incredible.

His marvel over the man's hairstyle was cut short, as something impacted him to the side of his forehead, and then sharp pain split its way down his skin, over his eyebrow and to his cheek. While the blue haired man quickly backed away, looking outraged, Harry blinked dully, more because of surprise than anything else.

"How dare you?" the blue haired man demanded, lifting his long nailed fingers and running his hands over his hair – which was already returning to its former shape. "You -- how _dare_ \--"

Harry blinked – and then, as blood trickled down to the corner of his mouth, he laughed with pure delight. The purple eyed man was _blushing_. "You are without doubt the most mesmerizing creature I've yet to encounter on this world," Harry pronounced, running hand over the wounded side of his face. His palm was completely covered in blood when he pulled it back. The wizard laughed again. He could bleed! He hadn't thought he could, honestly.

A night of great discoveries, indeed.

"You are _mad_ ," the blue haired man said, giving him a look that was somewhere between disgusted and begrudgingly fascinated.

"No doubt," Harry agreed, stepping forward. The other man looked, for a split second, like he would've liked to back away. He didn't and instead lifted his chin slightly and faced Harry's eyes proudly, with a hint of frosty anger in them. It only made Harry grin wider.

"Fear not; I'll take my leave," the wizard said, amused as he snatched the man's surprisingly large, long nailed hand up – the same that had scratched him, by the looks of the stained tips of the sharp nails. Grinning, he pressed a kiss to the man's long fingers. "You were delightful company, my most beautiful stranger," he said against the man's pale skin, and before the surprised man could pull his fingers back, he kissed the knuckles again, before pulling back. "Try and not kill anyone. There are so many more… _interesting_ things you could be doing."

The man didn't answer, only scowled at him while squeezing his hand into a loose fist. "The faith the Fayth have in you. I believe it is misplaced," he said, as Harry turned to leave as he had promised.

"That is your problem, not mine," Harry said, licking the blood from the corner of his mouth. He needed some bandages, probably. What a notion, a dead man needing bandages. "If you get the chance, watch me. I will prove you _so_ wrong."

With a chuckle, he turned away to head back towards the residential quarters. If he would ever see the man again, he would do more than run his hands through his hair – especially if the edge hidden behind the tempting beauty remained as sharp. Grinning, Harry wiped his hand over the fresh cuts again. They were _really_ bleeding, much like any head wound did. The man had really gouged him good.

But in the end, it was only worth anything if you sweated and bled for it. He had bled. Next time someone would _sweat_.

"What the hell happened to you?" Tar asked, when he entered the common rooms rented by the knights. "Did you run into a fiend?"

"Yes. A ferocious blue beast," Harry answered, and grinned again.

He had ridden in miserable icy weather for hours, he had enjoyed the most awesome bath ever, he had talked with an incredibly powerful ghost about all the things that mattered, and he had gotten mauled for a nearly innocent touch.

It was, hands down, his best day on Spira so far. He couldn't wait to see the day that would top it.


	4. Chapter 4

The next day, Harry carefully fitted his helmet over his recently bandaged cheek. The cuts had actually been as deep as they had felt and he had been lucky not to lose an eye, according to Tar. The man had been a bit miffed when Harry hadn't wanted a healing, telling him he was wasting energy and time healing naturally, but he hadn't cared. Harry wanted the scars, and if the man applied any Cures or Curas to the cuts, he wouldn't.

"Whatever. Ruin yourself, see if I care," Tar had finally sighed, throwing his hands up in the air and marched away, while Harry had plastered the band aids on. It worked just as well for the wizard, and once he had a helmet on and the visor down, no one said another word about them. The helmet's padding pressed against them rather uncomfortably though.

The squadrons led by Adrak's lieutenants headed off first, with promises to meet at the Thunder Plains Travel Agency next. After Adrak had exchanged some words with Adept Giyal, the last squadron left the temple proper too and made their way to the stables to find their birds well rested and fed. Gearing them up didn't take long, and though Harry could feel that Sol was a little reluctant to leave the warmth of the stables in favour of the cold of outside, he did manage to steer her to follow the others out and across the icy bridge.

He spent a moment looking back at the magnificent temple, wondering about the blue haired man who had cut him. It was pretty unlikely he would get to see the man again, he knew. Worlds tended to be big places, and unless people had way to communicate at a distance, chance meetings were a bit rare, borderline impossible. It was nice to hope, though. The man had been very beautiful – he had fit the temple well. Maybe, if Harry got the chance to visit the place again….

"Let's move out," Adrak said, and sighing Harry made to turn his eyes to the front, before seeing a flicker of shadow across the icy bridge, near the entrance of the temple. Shiva's Fayth stood there, along with the ghostly figure of a woman Harry had yet to meet. As Harry's eyes zeroed into the two of them, Shiva's Fayth elegantly made the hand gesture everyone seemed to like so much, and bowed her head.

"I wish you all the luck in this and another world," he could hear her voice singing in the icy air, with hint of what he had heard in space in it. The simple, beautiful hymn. "Be strong, Sir Harry. Be valiant."

"I'll be bold and headstrong," Harry answered and with a grin. He eyed the other woman – who wore simpler, casual clothing – curiously for a moment, wondering if she was another Fayth, but as the dark haired woman said or did nothing, so he simply waved his hand in good bye. Then he turned Sol to follow the other knights out, and into the frosty air of Macalania lake.

He could feel them watching him even as he left the cavern of the Macalania temple behind, but ignored it.

The weather seemed even more miserable than before, after the warmth of the temple. The wind had picked up a little and the clouds above them were promising them some more snow to make the journey even less pleasant. The atmosphere between the knights turned sullen with the weather, and they trekked in silence, only the steps and the unhappy warbles from their birds making any noise in the otherwise silent place.

Until they got attacked for the first time that day, of course, but even the fight and the easy victory over the fiends didn't lighten the mood much. While refitting his naginata into the holster he had on the saddle for it, Harry wondered about the fiends once more. They had already killed more than thirty while on the journey, but there seemed to be no shortage for it. What where they and where they came from – and why did they break apart into flickering lights when they were killed?

"Are fiends the same everywhere?" he asked Metryn, who was just pulling the furred collar of his cape closer around his neck.

"Everywhere? Nah. They tend to change to fit the weather – like here, they're fortified against the cold. And they change to fit the prey too, so in Mi'ihen Highroad for example they're fast and so forth," the man answered, waving a gloved hand dismissively. "You can expect the nasty critters to be nasty everywhere."

Harry nodded thoughtfully, and then glanced at the others, wondering if he dared to ask. It could be one of those things that everyone knew and he would just make his ignorance known if he asked – but he was honestly curious. "Where do fiends come from?" he asked.

Metryn blinked and turned to face him, looking a little incredulous. "You don't _know_?"

"Of course I know," Harry answered smoothly, cursing himself mentally. "It's just… you know. I was just wondering if there's more to it. There's so many of them."

The elder knight shook his head, leaning back a little. "Too many dead, too many Pyreflies," he said, still looking at him oddly. "You know, the people who die and get Sent by a Summoner, that's a fraction of a percentage. I know the Church makes it seem that most of them get a Send, but it's a lie. A whole lot of people die out of reach, in places where people don't see – like here, for example. Who knows how many lives the tundra has taken – and after they die and no one Sends them, they get bitter and wander around and then become fiends. And attack us living."

Harry frowned slightly. Fiends were made from the spirits of the _dead_? He had thought that the Unsent in Spira – the dead who didn't move on, as it were – became like him. "I thought the Unsent…."

"Nah, that's just those who got real motivation – something larger than life. Most people, they just wander around in life aimlessly, and do the same in death," Metryn said, shaking his head. "They become fiends, we kill the fiends, the Pyreflies fly off and become fiends again. Rinse and repeat."

"And… that's it?" Harry asked. "It's always going to keep on happening?

"Unless someone Sends them, and there's not that many Summoners in the world – and those who are, they're either concentrated on their pilgrimages or they give up their talents completely when they chicken out of their tasks," Metryn shook his head. "There's some Summoners who Send every Pyrefly they ever encounter, but there's too many of them, and more appear each day, so it probably won't ever stop. All you can do is keep fighting on, really."

"Hm," Harry murmured, frowning, wondering. Spira had a whole boatload of troubles with their dead, didn't it? And here he had thought that the ghost of Earth had it bad. What would happen to the dead of Spira when the time came for the planet to die? Especially if there was so goddamn many of them. "It's a pity no one but Summoners can Send," he said after a moment.

"Yeah, it is," Metryn agreed.

They kept on going and around late afternoon, after several battles that made not a little bit more sense to Harry, they passed by a construction site, where Adrak stopped to talk to the construction workers. While the Chocobo Knights took the chance to try and rub some warmth into their limbs, Harry looked back in the lake's direction. He still felt like the Fayth of the Macalania temple were staring at him. Or that someone was. Maybe it was more fiends?

"It's going to be another Travel Agency," the Captain said, after returning. "Probably a good thing – on foot it's a day's journey from here to the temple and people probably need to restock after Macalania woods."

"Does that mean we're almost at the woods?" one of the novices asked eagerly.

"Almost," Adrak nodded. "Let's go. We can camp in the forests – it will be warmer there."

Harry frowned at the icy plains once more before turning to follow the others. They rode on, until the icy terrain started to give away to a forest. The icy trees, sparkling in the light of the cloud-shaded sun didn't seem so remarkably beautiful after Macalania temple, but they were still a sight to behold. The trees were bigger and more complicated than in the forest north of Bevelle, forming bridges and walkways above the ground. As Adrak led them up those walkways, Harry realised that they were actually used as the main roads, rather than the ground.

"Pretty," he said out loud, as he saw a cluster of beautiful blue and red butterflies flickering about.

"Yeah. Be careful not to touch the red ones," Metryn said. "They attract fiends."

Harry shook his head. Fiends everywhere. What a world.

"You know, I've been wondering," he started carefully after a while, when in one crook of the strange branch road they passed by a sturdy looking chest. It wasn't the first he had seen in the woods – there had been one he had seen in the mountains too, but he had ignored that as someone having tried to lug it with them and then given up half way through the mountains. There had been so many of them now, though, that he had to ask. "What's with the chests?"

Metryn gave him a strange look. "Haven't you seen them before? They're places for travellers to leave the things they don't need that others might be able to use. It's just common sense – and common courtesy."

"I haven't done that much travelling, I guess," Harry answered with a sheepish smile. Common sense and courtesy, huh? Even people of Spira were hospitable – on Earth those chest would've gotten stolen a long time ago, never mind their insides.

They made their camp beneath some bridge-like branches that night, setting their tents wherever there was a little bit of straight ground. There was no fire set that night, aside from what they had in lanterns for light – apparently, the keepers of the forest didn't care for fire, and people preferred to stay on their good side.

Harry, who was put on guard duty, enjoyed the night immensely regardless the lack of extra warmth. The forest was beautiful and the butterflies flickering about gave him something interesting to watch, even if the chocobos and keeping them quiet and content hadn't done it. Still, the thought of Pyreflies and fiends – and the blue haired man – intervened every now and then.

"This world's magic and the way people work is pretty complicated," he mused out loud, while stroking Adrak's chocobo's neck in an effort to make the stout bird to settle down.

"Too complicated?" familiar voice asked from behind him, and glancing backwards, Harry saw the hooded boy there.

"Nothing wrong with that," the wizard assured, patting the chocobo again before turning to face the boy. "Have you been following me?" he asked. "Because I've had this annoying feeling of someone staring at my neck all day. It's starting to freak me out a bit."

"No," the boy shook his head, giving him a look. "Maybe it is a fiend," he suggested before asking, "Wasn't there things like this in your world? Was your magic different?"

Harry shrugged. "My world lived by a simpler method, at least as far as it came to life and death, but who knows if it was better. The efforts people went through in order to live after death, they weren't pretty."

"Did you?" the boy asked.

Sighing, Harry shook his head, crouching down beside the kid. "I lusted for life," he answered, leaning his elbows on his knees. "Too much to let go. I remained as a ghost, nothing but a mirage of what I used to be, a memory if even that. What I am now is just a fraction of what I used to be – the rest of me went on." He shrugged his shoulders. He had no illusions of being whole – no ghost was. "It's funny how here it's backwards – it takes effort to go, rather than to stay."

"Yes," the boy agreed. "It makes this world strong. And weak."

Harry nodded, and looked towards the tents, where the other knights slept. "I know about Pyreflies now, and how fiends work. Tell me. Does Sin work that way too?" The High Summoner's sacrificed guardian became Sin, but… there was a lot between a human sacrifice and a great monstrosity. The overwhelming strength that terrified people, it had to be more than that.

"In… a manner of speaking. Like fiends and like the Aeons, the shell that is Sin is formed from Pyreflies," the boy answered, bowing his head a little. "That is part of the reason why it kills people – it gains strength from the Pyreflies people become, it regenerates like that. But it is only the shell, and it changes. The inside of it, that stays the same, even when it changes."

"And the Aeons are formed from Pyreflies too, right?" Harry asked, thinking back to the first explanation he'd gotten on that score. It was like the whole world was full of necromancy – like it was _made_ from it.

"Yes. That is the power of the Fayth, of the Summoners – that is what summoning is. The Fayth give the shape and the form, but what makes it is the Pyreflies wandering this world. That is the essence of Aeons. That is why only Summoners can Send – because they have the power to command the Pyreflies."

Harry shook his head, looking away. It was all getting a bit twisted. He had thought that Aeons were actual creatures summoned from… somewhere. But they were more like transfigured souls? As was Sin – or its shell anyway, whatever that meant.

Voldemort would've loved this place.

"You know what you people need? You need a legion of exorcists," Harry sighed, standing up and stretching his arms.

The boy turned to look at him. "E…xorcist? What is that?"

Harry chuckled. "A type of wizard – or a priest – my world had. Their job was essentially to Send dead spirits and souls to the Afterlife – our version of Farplane. Especially so when those souls were causing trouble," he explained. "Pyreflies create fiends, Pyreflies form Sin, Pyreflies cause a whole lot of trouble… getting rid of them seems like the place to start, in the attempt of saving this world. You want to take someone down, attack their food supply. It definitely worked on Earth."

The boy was quiet for a moment. "Do you want the ability to Send?" he asked – and he almost sounded hopeful.

"Not if it includes praying, or summoning," Harry laughed, shaking his head. "But it's a thought to consider. How does the ability to Send work, anyway?"

The ghostly boy considered it for a moment. "Summoners naturally attract Pyreflies, because of their connection and abilities," he said after a moment. "Sending essentially lures the Pyreflies to gather even more and then the Summoner charms them to do what they wish. The Summoner commands them to move on, and the charmed Pyreflies do as they are ordered, using the Summoner's power as a gateway…" He trailed away and then sighed. "It doesn't always work. People's will to hang onto life is strong. Some always escape."

Harry chuckled. Spira had more issues than the Time Magazine had had. "We've got our work cut out for us, don't we?" he mused, stretching his arms again and then crossing his hands behind his neck. "Good," he murmured. One wouldn't want things to be boring.

 

* * *

 

After a day or so spent wandering around the maze of the Macalania woods, they made it to the Thunder Plains. It was, Harry decided, either his favourite or least favourite place in Spira so far. It didn't have the aesthetic beauty of Bevelle or Macalania's various parts, and seemed to be dark grey and murky everywhere… but it was so exciting. The dark area of the plains had seemingly eternal layer of thunder clouds over it and lightning struck nearly constantly – and, if you stood still a little too long, it struck you.

And wearing armour well, that only made things more interesting.

"Okay. We will cross over the plains as fast as we can. The lightning here is weak and won't kill you even if you get struck a dozen times in a row, but it will strain the chocobos, so try and avoid getting hit," Adrak said. "Now, we aim for the Travel Agency and we will do it as fast as possible. Let's move out."

And then they ran, with lightning dramatically flashing at all sides. Though the rain was awful and the place was fairly unpleasant to look at, the chance to shake off the stiffness built in Macalania wood's winding roads was definitely welcome. Even Sol seemed to brighten up, even though it took no longer than half an hour for the poor bird to get nearly soaked in the rain.

Even whilst squeezing all the speed out of their birds they possibly could, they still didn't avoid getting hit. Metryn was the first to get struck, and though judging by the way the man and his chocobo just shook it off, he had experienced it before. The novice who got hit next had a little harder time, especially since his chocobo nearly panicked. Then it seemed that the clouds had decided it was open season on Chocobo Knights, and it got easier to count who _hadn't_ gotten struck.

"Damn it," Harry hissed, the second time he got hit. It wasn't bad – he had gotten worse shocks in magic duels – but the way his armour rattled was a new and rather annoying thing. Sol, who ruffled her feathers and let out an irritated wark seemed to agree.

"Who gets hit the most will buy everyone drinks at the agency!" someone off to the side decided, and the knights got a new motivation to avoid getting struck – no one wanted to be in charge of paying for some dozen knights' boozing.

By the time they made it to the travel agency, the only ones not struck were Tar and Adark, and everyone else had suffered stings from left and right. Harry himself had been struck some four times, and Sol did not seem too happy about it – she was starting to look like a bright, wet puffball, with her feathers standing up.

"Tend to your birds," Adrak ordered, as they made their way straight to the stables. "I'll settle our accommodations."

"Take some special care," Metryn added. "They're going to need some work before they can relax after all that – and they'll need their rest tonight. There's more where that came from tomorrow, after all."

Harry took heed of the man's words, and spent a good hour brushing and stroking Sol into a better mood, before spreading a blanket over her back and leaving her to her dinner. When he entered the common rooms of the agency, the most of the other knights were already eating.

"We should reach Guadosalam around afternoon tomorrow, so we won't be staying the night," Adrak was saying, as he sat down. "We will take a couple of hours there, so that I can pay our respects to Maester Jyscal if he is present and that everyone can visit the Farplane, but that's the only time we can spare. I want to reach Moonflow before the night.

Harry blinked and glanced up. Visit… the Farplane? He glanced at the others, but no one seemed to think there was anything unusual about the sentence, so he hurriedly turned his attention to the food instead, even though his mind raced. There was a way to visit the Farplane in this… Guadosalam place? The hell?

He needed a guidebook to this world, pronto.

 

* * *

 

After a night spent listening and counting the lightning strikes, the Chocobo Knights embarked once more, making haste again in order to avoid getting hit and, maybe, avoid getting too wet in the meantime. It was a more or less useless attempt, though, as the rain was persistent and somehow got inside their helmets and rained down the gaps between their armour plates, until they were soaked through.

"I'm almost getting used to being wet," Harry mused. "Maybe I can now pursue my lifelong dream of forever smelling like a wet dog."

"I'd say we're all more or less there already," another knight sighed, and they drudged on, wet and sullen, which the gloomy atmosphere of the Plains did little to alleviate. The only thing that made the journey seem worth it at all to the Knights seemed to be the ray of hope in the distance, named Guadosalam.

A few hours into the riding, Harry even began figuring out why. Not only did the Thunder Plains apparently end just before Guadosalam, but there was something very special in the place where the Guado lived.

"I was about five, I think, when he died," one of the novices said to another, with Harry listening over the conversation while pretending to be more interested in looking sullenly ahead. "He was a Crusader. There was some mission – I don't know what, though, it was all hushed up – where a whole bunch of Crusaders died. There was a Sending ceremony, of course, but it was held in Bevelle and… well, they never recovered the body."

The man smiled dryly, shaking his head. "I guess I'm still kind of hoping that I won't see him, in the Farplane – but at the same time… I think it would help, if I did. Give me some closure."

"What will you do, if he isn't there?" the other novice asked quietly, leaning back in her saddle.

"I don't know, look for him, maybe? Probably not. Be pretty damn pissed off, most likely," the first novice answered, sighing. "Have you ever seen the Farplane?" he asked, glancing at Harry.

"Nope, never been below Bevelle – before now," Harry answered. "What's it like?"

"I've never been there either, but they say it's really beautiful. There's waterfalls and flowers and Pyreflies everywhere," the novice sighed. "They say it's peaceful. We'll see soon, I guess."

Tar, who had been listening to them from the side, snorted. "The Farplane's noisy, is all it is," he answered. "You know the noise Pyreflies make? Multiply that by a million and you get the Farplane." With a harrumph, he turned to the side and rode a little ahead.

"Don't mind him. He's had some bad experiences with the whole thing," Metryn said from the side. "Not that it's my business to tell, of course."

How anyone could get anything but bad experiences while visiting a version of the Afterlife, Harry didn't know. Still, it was becoming a bit clearer. He still didn't know how, but apparently there was an entrance to Farplane in Guadosalam, where people could go and see their dead loved ones, or something like that. It seemed more than a little iffy to him, but then, the only entrance to the Afterlife Earth had was the Archway of Death, and he definitely had some bad experiences with that thing.

Shaking his head, he glanced over his shoulder, trying to once more see who the bloody hell was staring at him – but once more, there was no one and nothing there. Scowling slightly he turned to look ahead again. Maybe he was getting paranoid – though how a dead man could get paranoid was anyone's guess. The worst things of life had already happened to him, after all.

Like Adrak had estimated, they arrived at the end of Thunder Plains a little past afternoon. At the entrance of Guadosalam, which looked interesting to say at least, like a mountain all made of roots, they were greeted by pair of Guado in wide-sleeved coats.

"Greetings," the Captain of the Bevelle Knights called, dismounting his bird. He bowed his head and did the hand thing, which the Guado answered in kind. "And good day to you."

"Same to you and welcome to Guadosalam. I am Tromell Guado, servant of Maester Jyscal and keeper of the palace here, at Guadosalam," the green haired Guado in front greeted them. "Am I right in assuming you are Captain Adrak? Your lieutenants have been through here already."

"Yes, they're travelling a bit ahead, so that we don't descend upon anyone in too big of a crowd," Adrak agreed, chuckling. "Is Lord Jyscal present?" he asked then, turning serious. "If he is, I would very much like to pay my respects to the Maester."

The green haired man nodded his head. "Yes, his Grace is presently at the palace," he assured, "Since we had word of your arrival from your people, we have made ready for you, Captain – if you would come this way, I can show you where you can take your chocobos to rest and after that, you may meet with the Maester."

As the Chocobo Knights dismounted and followed the Guado through the cave-like entrance and into the forest-born city, Harry felt himself being stared at once more. This time, however, it wasn't by something invisible, but by the Guados, who glanced at his direction and then spoke in hushed tones to each other behind their palms. Harry looked back at them frowning. No, they weren't staring at the knights in general or anything – they were definitely staring at him and him alone.

Harry wasn't the only one who noticed – a couple of the other knights did too, as did Tromell. As the Guado keeper gave Harry a thoughtful glance, Harry frowned back, now starting to feel more than a little freaked out. What were they all staring at – did he have something in his face? After all the rain, it wouldn't have surprised him if he had, and he certainly had smelled better… but it wasn't like the other knights were in better shape.

It was especially bothersome since being stared at he couldn't really take the moment to enjoy the way Guadosalam looked – it was probably one of the more interesting places he had seen, and he barely noticed it because he was too busy trying not to feel uncomfortable as heck.

The Guado said nothing though and neither did the now curious looking knights, and soon the chocobos were taken into the stables without a hitch. After Tromell's assurances of it being alright, Adrak gave the knights permission to visit the Farplane if they wished it, before turning to follow the servant towards what Harry assumed was the palace.

"Captain, perhaps you would wish some of your soldiers to accompany you?" Tromell suggested, giving Harry a steady look. "Him, perhaps."

"Harry?" Adrak asked, and then frowned, giving Harry a look. Harry met it with some confusion, which only got worse when the Captain's expression darkened. "Alright. Harry, come with us."

"Sir," Harry answered with a somewhat cautious nod, feeling like a eleven year old caught smuggling a dragon. Not entirely sure what was going on but figuring it couldn't be anything good – especially since the other knights suddenly were exchanging looks and some of the senior ones were frowning at the wizard – he followed behind the servant and his Captain. It was strange – and kind of exciting too, he mused and then smothered a grin while entertaining himself with the notion that the Guado wanted human sacrifices from people who crossed through their lands. Wouldn't _that_ be something?

They made their way to the middle of the wooden city that looked almost like it had simply grown out of the forest. There was a wooden staircase there – not cut and sawed and pieced together like normal ones, no, this one was made from living wood like the rest of the place. While following Tromell and Adrak up, Harry tugged a glove off and ran his fingers over the knotty handrail at the side of the staircase. It felt interesting – like branches and roots and life.

Inside, the Guadosalam palace was pretty much the same as it was on the outside – living and growing as part of the tree it looked like from the outside. It was bigger than Harry had suspected, with enormous staircases and such, and a wide entrance hall with a beautiful crystal floor that seemed to glow.

"This way," Tromell said to Adrak, giving Harry yet another sideways look. They followed the Guado through the entrance hall and past doors in the back into what looked like a throne room without a throne – some sort of reception area, perhaps? There were a couple more Guados there, and one blue haired one who was wearing an especially impressive set of wide sleeved robes with an orange vest on top of them. Judging by the way Tromell immediately bowed at the man, Harry suspected the impressive looking Guado was Maester Jyscal.

"Milord, I present to you Captain Adrak of the Bevelle Chocobo Knights," Tromell said. "And," the servant looked at Harry. "The Unsent, Harry."

Harry raised his eyebrows at that, while Adrak took half a step to the side and gave him a sharp look. Now how had Tromel known that, the wizard wondered. Or actually it hadn't been just Tromel, he mused, recalling the way the other Guados had been looking at him too, even before Tromell had. Could all Guados do that? Why hadn't the one in Macalania temple said anything? And why hadn't the Fayth warned him?

"Welcome, Captain Adrak," Jyscal said, turning to them and doing the hand gesture thing. "You and your Knights are most welcome."

"You have my gratitude, and that of my men," Adrak nodded, bowing back and then looking at Harry again. "I apologise for Harry, however. I was not aware that he was an Unsent."

"That is quite alright," Jyscal said, nodding and stepping forward. "Unsent rarely mention such things."

Harry huffed, placing his hands to the armoured plates at his hips. "I still have ears, your Grace, and talking about people, even if they're dead, as if they're not present is very rude," he said, before looking at Adrak. "I'm sorry about fooling you, sir."

The man sighed, giving him a mild frown. "You've been dead all this time?" he asked.

"And a long, long while before it, sir," Harry shrugged. He had been dead long before Adrak's ancestors had learned how to utilise sharp sticks, probably. "It's not a big deal, really – there are worse things."

"And there are better things. Unsent should not wander the lands unchecked as they tend to do," Jyscal said, stepping in front of them, frowning. "The fact that you can, however, speaks of great conviction. The willpower required to maintain a humanoid shape is more than an average person can manage. Remove your helmet, Unsent, I wish to see your face."

Shrugging his shoulders, Harry removed it, rubbing his hand over the bandages of his cheek to make sure they wouldn't slip off. "Sorry about the smell, my lord," he said, tugging the helmet under his arm and running the fingers of his free hand through his hair. "Leather, metal and armour oil mixed with the weather of Thunder Plains makes one heady mixture."

Adrak scoffed slightly, looking like he wanted to actually chuckle but was holding it back because of principle. "Why join my Knights?" he asked, folding his arms.

"It seemed like a thing to do," Harry asked. "You were conveniently there, and motivated by the same things. I figured it would make things easier for me on the long run."

"Things? What things?"

"Unsent can only hold onto themselves through unfinished matters," Jyscal said thoughtfully, lifting his long fingered hand and running it over his blue beard. "Tasks left incomplete, missions failed. Your conviction is strong enough for your mimicry of life to realistically react to injury," the man mused, eyeing the bandage. "What is your mission, Unsent?"

"If you think that's what keeping me realistically solid, you're wrong. I hold onto life for life's sake," Harry answered, grinning. Fighting Sin was _nothing_ in comparison to feeling and sensing and experiencing, as motivations went.

"Explain yourself," the Maester demanded.

"Perhaps I can offer some explanation," a voice said somewhere behind Harry, making him frown as the feeling of being stared at by invisible eyes intensified. While Jyscal jerked his head slightly, Harry glanced at Adrak, who seemed to not have heard the voice at all. Glancing over his shoulder, the wizard saw why.

It was the plainly clothed Fayth woman he had seen at Shiva's Fayth's side at the Macalania temple. "Sir Harry," she said, nodding her head to the wizard who raised a confused eyebrow at her.

"My lady," Harry answered, stepping aside to let the woman through while Adrak gave him a strange look. The wizard didn't care though – too busy wondering what it was with Fayths and appearing behind him. Bahamuth's Fayth, Shiva's Fayth, and now this one. All appeared directly behind him. It was like they were trying to unnerve him. This one even had succeeded in it.

"How is this…?" Jyscal stared, his voice wavering with surprise, before quickly snapping out of it. "Leave us," he said, waving a hand at the other Guado in the room. The Guado seemed familiar with such orders, as they only bowed their heads and made their way out without a word of complaint or as much as a strange look, Tromell following them and leaving Harry and Adrak alone with the Fayth and Maester Jyscal.

"What's going on?" the Captain of the Bevelle Knights asked.

"A Fayth made her presence known, sir," Harry answered to him, shrugging his shoulders. "Most people don't see them, or so I've heard."

"And you can see her?" the taller knight asked dubiously. Harry just shrugged his shoulders again, before looking between the Fayth woman and Jyscal curiously. They were making what could only be called googly eyes at each other – it was kind of weird.

"How can you be here?" the Maester finally asked, his voice quiet.

"My power differs slightly from that of the others, because my Aeon only had one Summoner – I have the power to follow," she answered, and gave Harry a look. "I have followed Seymour for several years now, but when Sir Harry came to Macalania temple and had a discussion with Shiva's Fayth and…" she sighed and shook her head, turning to Jyscal once more. "Sir Harry is performing a task for the Fayth."

"Truly?" Jyscal asked, looking at Harry.

"I wouldn't say a task, my lord, lady – it's more a favour, really," Harry answered, shaking his head and wondering. A Fayth who followed High Priest Seymour? Interesting. A pity he hadn't gotten the chance to meet the guy. "The Fayth did a bigger favour for me, asking me to do it, though," he added. "Seeing that I got a physical form out of it."

"What is the favour?" Jyscal asked intently, looking between Harry and the Fayth woman while Adrak looked at Harry, frowning more with confusion than anything else. "What do the Fayth want him to do?"

The woman hesitated, lifting a hand to rest on Jyscal's chest before looking at Harry over her shoulder. "Sir Harry will defeat Sin once and for all."

"Hey, all I promised was to try," Harry answered quickly. "I haven't even seen the thing yet. I might not be able to do much."

"The Fayth disagree. We can feel your power," the woman said, turning to Jyscal again.

The Maester was scowling. "Him? An Unsent? Is he even a Summoner? _Was_ he ever a Summoner?"

"No. His powers lie in other things, things we do not understand, but we can feel. In knowledge and experience and strength that overcomes the boundaries of life and death, perhaps," the Fayth said, shaking her head. Then she smiled. "He has already done a favour for us, Jyscal. Because of him, Seymour has drastically altered his plans."

Jyscal drew a sharp breath – or what was sharp for a Guado, they were a somewhat lethargic lot as far as Harry could tell. "He has?" the man asked, lifting his hand and closing it over the woman's transparent one. The Maester looked like he barely dared to hope and suddenly Harry felt pretty much how Adrak must've, hearing only part of a conversation. "For… for the better?"

"It's still early, but I hope so," the woman nodded, smiling slightly. Then she shook her head and turned to Harry. "Sir Harry must be allowed to make his journey, wherever it will take him. His influence over people is great and I truly believe he will be able to defeat Sin. He cannot be stopped now, so early."

"If the Fayth wish it, then so be it," Jyscal nodded, giving Harry a thoughtful look. "You must hold within you something special, to earn the trust of the Fayth, Sir Harry."

"Just the happy accident of being in the right place at the right time, sir," Harry sighed. It was the Voldemort and the Boy Who Lived thing all over again. Not that he actually minded – he would've happily fought ten Voldemorts, just to enjoy a place as pretty as Spira. "So, no Sending for me, then?"

"From our part… no. You have an important mission to accomplish and the Guado will under no circumstances stand in your way," the Maester said, turning to the Fayth. "We however cannot grant our aid in this, not openly. Even if he was chosen by you, an Unsent is an Unsent."

The Fayth woman nodded, and turned to Harry. "I must return to Seymour now," she said. "I wish you well, Sir Harry. You shook Seymour's beliefs, for which I will be forever grateful. I did not think that it could be done, but you did. Hopefully, if you meet again, you can shake them even more."

Harry nodded, though he couldn't help but feel more than a little bit confused. As he and Jyscal watched how the Fayth faded away, he wondered when he had supposedly met this elusive Seymour. He didn't think he had, unless….

"Well, Sir Harry. For now you are welcome in my house – and I will inform the others not to bother you now or in the future, so long as you keep on your chosen path," Jyscal said. "I am however serious about not being able to lend you our aid. This might change in the future, but the Guado's standing against the Unsent is firm. Or, as firm as the times permit."

"I think I can do without help, sir, for now," Harry said, wondering what _as firm as times permit_ was supposed to mean. Then he remembered the Captain of the Bevelle Knights, and glanced at the man guiltily.

Adrak was pinching the bridge of his nose, with a vein throbbing on his neck. He didn't look too happy – actually, he looked like he was fighting off a headache.

Harry grimaced slightly. "Uh unless I will be kicked out of the Knights. Then I might need a map or something," he amended awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. Without the Knights he would have no idea where to go. In that aspect, he was kind of a lame saviour.

"Let's talk about that after you explain everything to me," Adrak said a little forcefully and lowered his hand. "Starting from the beginning."

"That might take a while, sir," the wizard answered. "Can we start from, say, a month ago? That will take a little less time to explain."

"Why a month ago?"

"Because that's roughly how long I've been an Unsent," Harry shrugged, crossing his hands behind his head and grinning sheepishly. Adrak faced his grin with a flat look for a long moment, before Jyscal cleared his throat.

"Captain Adrak, Sir Harry," he said, making the two armoured men turn to face him. "I too would like to hear the full story, unless you are in a hurry to move on. To this end, I invite you to join me for a late lunch. We can discuss everything over some food."

Adrak sighed and nodded. "Thank you for your invitation, Maester Jyscal. We humbly accept."


	5. Chapter 5

A little while later, they were seated at the end of a long dining table, with some vegetarian dishes spread out between them. Jyscal and Adrak were both staring at Harry, who was enjoying the food for the taste's sake. "I know, Unsent don't need to eat," he said, shrugging. "But Unsent can still taste things, and this is good."

"I'm glad you approve," Jyscal said, bridging his fingers over his plate. "However, you have a story to tell, Sir Harry."

"Alright, my lord," Harry sighed. Party poopers. "Let's start with the basics. You know that Spira is not the only planet in the universe, right?" he asked, to which Adrak frowned and Jyscal nodded. "Well, I'm not originally from Spira. The world I'm from is called Earth – or was called, back when there were still people alive there to call it anything."

"You are… is this a joke?" Adrak asked sharply.

"No, sir," Harry snorted. "Though I suppose it could make a good one. Earth and whatnot doesn't really matter, really – just the fact that we had a bit different system with our dead. Your _Unsent_ were called ghosts on Earth and unlike your Unsent, ghosts were never physical, at the best of times they could have the same effect as a light breeze could on solid objects, but that was about it. That's why no one really cared much about them, so they were left alone and no one generally tried to _Send_ them. Ghosts were more like mirages or reflections than anything else, and those can't hurt anyone."

"Fascinating," Jyscal murmured.

"Confusing is what it is," Adrak answered. "You're an Unsent from another world, is that what you're saying? If so then how are you here? It doesn't make sense."

Harry shrugged motioned at himself. "I was a ghost, sir, yes. And when my world died, I remained – along with thousands of other ghosts. It wasn't like the eternal winter that took Earth could hurt us, the way we were," he shook his head. "It just got incredibly boring, mind dulling. Nothing happened, and all there was, was snow and ice and a little more snow to keep us company – along with each other, and that got boring after a while too."

"How did your world die, Sir Harry?" Jyscal asked, curiously.

"There was a war, and people used weapons that did some messed up things to the atmosphere – I think the world's axis shifted too, somewhere along the way, but I'm not sure," Harry waved a hand. "The world is still alive, though, but everything on the surface died – the winter lasted for too long for anything to survive."

"If this is all true, how did you get here? Why?" Adrak demanded to know.

Harry shrugged. "Earth got boring, like I said. So a whole bunch of us ghosts got together and we decided to leave. Space is nothing to a thing that doesn't need to breath and doesn't need warmth and what not – so we just… floated away. It was a stupid idea, really – Earth had nothing on space as far as boring things go, I went mental after a while, but by that time it was too late to go back. So, I kept on floating, drifting away from Earth."

"And you drifted here," Jyscal nodded, leaning back in his chair. "It must have taken a long time."

"Tens of thousands of years, probably. I slept through a lot of it and space does have some cool things in it, so it wasn't as bad as it could've been – but it was still pretty bad," Harry shrugged. "I probably would've kept on floating on, if the Fayth of Bahamut hadn't caught me just above this world."

"And then he asked you to do a favour for him?" Adrak asked, folding his arms. "Why you? If you… ghosts really are the way you say they are, then what use could've you been?"

"I don't know why he asked me. I figured it was because I wasn't from Spira – maybe he thought it would give me an edge, I don't know," Harry answered. "Besides, just falling down to Spira made me an Unsent, gave me an body. Your world is very hospitable when it comes to dead people."

"The Pyreflies are powerful. They can give form to mere straying thoughts, if the thoughts are strong enough," Jyscal agreed. "It is as fortunate, as it is unfortunate."

Adrak hummed, eyeing Harry with a frown. "Why join the Knights?" he finally asked.

"It seemed useful, sir," Harry answered, shrugging his shoulders once more. He was doing it a lot – but then, the sound his armour made when he did it was pretty cool. In an annoying scratching metal sort of way. "I fell to the Calm Lands first and when I made it to the Calm Lands store and the salesperson told me about you guys… I figured it was worth checking it out. And with Sol, my chocobo, following me so happily, it seemed like fate."

The wizard grinned. "I stayed for the armour, though," he admitted, lifting his hands and grinning at his gauntlets. "I mean… a _knight_. You have no idea how cool this is for me."

The Captain of the Bevelle Knights harrumphed, but he looked a little less severe now. He smothered the amusement under a frown, eyeing Harry seriously. "What is the favour the Fayth asked of you?" he asked then.

"I thought that would be a bit obvious by now, sir. They want me to defeat Sin," Harry said, and then smiled crookedly at the way the other knight stared at him incredulously. "Yeah, I know, it seems like the longest shot ever, and I'm not even a Summoner or anything. But I did promise to try. And since you Chocobo Knights fight Sin, well. It seemed easiest to go with you guys."

"This is… ridiculous. An _Unsent_ , from another world, fighting Sin… ludicrous," the Captain murmured, pushing his chair back and standing up so that he could pace along the length of the room. "What are the Fayth thinking?"

"Don't ask me," Harry shrugged. "Mind reading was never an art I managed to master. I guess they feel a bit of what I used to be when I was alive, that might explain a thing or two," he mused. When Jyscal gave him a curious look, he shrugged his shoulder. "I was a wizard. Kind of like your mage, except I was born as one."

"That's where your magic comes from?" Adrak asked, turning to Harry. "I thought there was something strange about it. Your spells are… strange."

"They work," Harry answered calmly. "Not as well as they used to – the naginata I use has nothing on the focuses I used back on Earth – but they still work. That's enough for me."

Adrak hummed and continued pacing for a while, before stopping. "This explains a few things," he finally admitted. "There was something strange about things you didn't know. Fiends and temples and such. Your world doesn't have them, does it?"

"No, it didn't. Well, something like them, but not like you do," Harry agreed. "Fayth, Aeons, Pyreflies… all new stuff for me, sir."

The Captain nodded, frowning. Then he glanced at a clock on a nearby wall and sighed. "It's soon time for us to get going," he mused and frowned at Harry. "I want to speak to you in private before we join the other knights."

"So, I will be allowed to stay with them?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Maybe. I need to think this through and right now I cannot think anything straight," Adrak sighed and turned to Jyscal. "My lord, I thank you for your hospitality and for informing me about Harry's Unsent state. This has brought up a lot of questions for me, but I am better off knowing, than remaining in the dark."

"You are most welcome," the Maester nodded. "Before you go, however, I would wish to exchange a few words in private with Sir Harry. It has to do with a personal matter," he said, placing his eating utensils down. "If you do not mind, Captain."

Adrak hesitated before nodding. "As you wish, lord Maester. I will be waiting in the hall," he said, and bowed his head, doing the hand gesture. He sent another glance at Harry, before collecting his helmet and walking away.

"I've been curious about that, but I haven't been able to ask without giving my ignorance away. What is that thing people do when they bow, sir?" Harry asked, mimicking the weird gesture.

"It is the Prayer. It is a symbol of respect and unity, a way of people to show that they think themselves connected to others through the bonds born living in same circumstances," Jyscal explained. "Under the sky and under the threat of Sin, we're all united."

"I see," Harry mused, leaning back. "Okay, I'll keep that in mind. What did you want to talk to me about, my lord?"

The Maester was quiet for a moment, before leaning forward a bit. "She, the Fayth from before… she said you have affected Seymour's plans. I wish to know what you said to my son."

"Your son?" Harry asked frowning. Then his eyebrows lifted up, as he eyed the man's blue, branch like locks of hair. Blue. Just like the hair of the beautiful, ferocious man back in Macalania temple. "That was High Priest Seymour?" he asked with surprise and then, "He's your son?"

Jyscal nodded, frowning slightly. "You did not know?"

"There's little I can ask without sounding like a fool, sir," Harry shrugged awkwardly. "So I don't. I met a man with blue hair kind of like yours, but I didn't realise he was a Guado. He didn't, I mean, aside from the hair, he looked like a human. And I didn't know he was the High Priest, I thought he was a Summoner at first, seeing that he could see the Fayth I was talking with."

"Seymour is a Summoner, and yes, he is my son. The Fayth you saw before, she was my wife," Jyscal sighed, looking down for a moment. "Our union was my foolishly naïve and optimistic attempt to connect the Guado and the humans closer together, by siring a half-blooded son. It did not turn out that way. Seymour…."

Harry frowned as the man sighed. So. The beautiful man was not only High Priest Seymour, but a Maester's Son, and a Summoner – and his mother was a _Fayth_. And, what had the woman said, that her Aeon only had one Summoner? "Sir," the wizard said. "Could you start from the beginning? This doesn't seem like something I should get misconceptions of."

"Yes. Of course. The truth," Jyscal sighed, and covered his eyes with his hands for a moment. Then he started, "I married Seymour's mother, a human woman, not out of love, but foolish hope. It was soon after I had managed to bring my people to the faith of Yevon, managed to connect them to wider Spira. I thought that as a son of both Guado and the Humans, Seymour would have a unique perspective on both races and that one day he would take over my place as the Maester, and bring our people fully to light. As a race, we Guado are small and fading and hope for a better future… is something we desperately need."

The man sighed again. "Of course, it did not turn out that way. My choice to marry a human was never approved of by my fellow Guado and Seymour's birth was not the happy event I wished it to be. Not only did my wife catch a terrible illness soon after the difficult labour, but Seymour was immediately cast out by the Guado and the Humans. He was called abomination, before he could even talk."

Harry frowned, folding his arms. Something must've changed, considering that the _abomination_ was now in charge of a temple with an Aeon in it, but he wasn't about to ask. It was always best to get a story in the proper order.

"In the end, before my son was more than a few months old, I was forced to send him and my wife away for their protection, and to limit the strife among my people," the Maester sighed. "I sent them to the island of Baaj where they could live comfortably, but in solitude, until things changed. I had hoped that in time the relations between Guado and Human would warm enough to make people accept my wife and son, but…."

"But?" Harry asked, as the man trailed away.

"But my wife's illness got worse. The first word Seymour ever sent to me, that did not go through her hands, was his demand to take her to Zanarkand. She wished to go through the rites to become the Fayth of an Aeon, but by that time she was too weak to write the letter herself," Jyscal bowed his head. "I permitted it, and I sent several of the priests serving under me to assist them on their journey. Seymour was only a child back then, only twelve years old. I do not think he ever forgave me, for allowing them to go through it."

There was a moment of silence, during which Harry closed his eyes, savouring the tale. Damn, even Spira's family drama was so fascinating. "Do you know why she wanted to become a Fayth, sir?" he asked, trying to picture a young Seymour in his head.

"To continue being with Seymour, I imagine. Wishing that this way, Seymour could be accepted in this world, if not as a human or as a Guado, then as a Summoner," the Maester said, shaking his head. "It did not turn out this way – though Seymour did become the Summoner of her Aeon, of Anima, he did not receive any pleasure from it. Despite my assurances that he had a place here, he took her statue, and returned to Baaj where he lived in solitude for many more years."

The Guado man sighed. "So many mistakes happened there. A twelve year old with that power, that trauma – all alone where no one could see him and with no one to ease him through his mourning. I'm afraid Seymour grew… twisted, his views of Spira distorting with his experiences, his loneliness." Jyscal trailed away for a moment before continuing. "When I called him back and demanded that he be ordained as a priest in Macalania temple, I think it was already too late. He had already made his dark plans."

Harry nodded slowly. He had glimpsed those plans, hadn't he? He frowned, thinking back to the beautiful blue haired man who had scratched him. There had been no fire in the man's eyes, only frosty determination. "Do you know what he planned?" the wizard asked. The Fayth had made it sound like she at least knew, but….

"I believe that for a while now, he has plotted my death," Jyscal admitted. "Should I die, Seymour would take my place as one of the Maesters – and then he would have all the power he needs to do whatever it is that he plans. I try not to imagine it, but you can see it in his eyes. He wishes nothing but death. For himself – and for everyone else. This, he thinks, will free Spira from the agony of Sin, and from the sorrow it sows behind it."

How gloomy. Harry rocked back in his chair thoughtfully. "Sounds like your son needs to learn to enjoy life, sir," he mused.

"Yes," Jyscal agreed with a weak chuckle and looked up at him. "I had thought changing his plans at this point would be impossible. And yet… you did something. You said something to him."

Harry grinned, somewhat self-deprecatingly. "I have no idea, sir. We talked about the Fayth and about Sin and about power. I told him there's no fun in getting things handed to you, though I doubt that was it," he said, scratching the edge of his bandage. "He seemed like pretty frosty guy, until the end. I riled him up a bit, and he scratched me."

Jyscal's eyes widened slightly. "Seymour… _scratched_ you?" he asked incredulously. "What did you do?"

Harry laughed. "I wanted to see if his hair was natural," he shrugged, and swung his chair straight again, the legs of it impacting the crystalline floor with a bang. He grinned at the memory. "I don't think he was expecting that. I even managed to make him blush."

For a moment the Maester just stared at him, looking like he was between being outraged and amused. Finally he shook his head. "Seymour has always led a withdrawn life. I suspect after his mother, no one has had much cause to touch him," he mused, eyeing Harry thoughtfully. "Why would you ever… Seymour is, he has always been thought a -"

"Abomination?" Harry asked, shaking his head. "Your son is the most beautiful creature I've seen in this world. I told him as much. He thought I was mad." Chuckling, the wizard shook his head and stood up. "If I see him again, I will try to rile him up again. Maybe I will be able to shake his plans a little more, who knows. But I can't promise anything. It's pretty unlikely we'll run into each other again."

"If you could… I would be grateful. Seymour has greatness in him, but it is smothered under his darkness," Jyscal said, standing up as well. "I think I now see what the Fayth see in you, Sir Harry. You are… different."

"That's a way of putting it, sir," Harry chuckled. "Does this mean I have your permission to… mess around with your son, my lord?" he asked, amused beyond belief. Getting a man's permission to seriously screw around with the man's son, that was something new. "I might be a bad influence."

Jyscal chuckled tiredly. "I think Seymour has had all the bad influence one can have," he said. "Anything from here on can only be called an improvement. So yes. You have my permission."

Harry blinked with surprise, not having been too serious. Now, though, now it sounded like he had just been given Seymour's hand in marriage. "Whoa," he said softly and then grinned. "Thank you sir. If I get the chance, I will make the most of it," he said, and then bowed his head. "It was a pleasure meeting you, my lord."

"You too, Sir Harry. I wish you all the luck upon Spira in your task – in all your tasks," the Maester said, and performed the Prayer smoothly.

"Thanks," Harry nodded, before remembering something. "Before we go, though, there's something I want to know. There was a Guado at the Macalania temple, but he didn't seem to notice me at all. If he did, he certainly didn't say anything about it."

Jyscal smiled. "We Guado do have keen senses when it comes to Farplane, but they are not infallible. In presence of such power as that of a Fayth, our powers become overwhelmed. It is most likely what kept Seymour from recognising your existence."

Harry nodded slowly. So, in temples and near Fayths, he was, hm, unnoticeable as an Unsent? That was good to know.

"Now, come," the Maester said, motioning towards the door. "I will escort you out."

 

* * *

 

After they had said their goodbyes to Maester Jyscal, with Harry once more promising to do what he was supposedly tasked to do, and Jyscal assuring that no Guado would stand in his way, Adrak turned to lead Harry into a solitary corner of Guadosalam.

"Taking into account what I've heard so far, what I've witnessed…" the Captain started, sighing. "I have mixed feelings about this, but as you have a _Maester's_ approval, I can't but permit you to continue in the Knights."

"Sure you can, sir," Harry disagreed with a smile, just rocking back and forth on the heels of his feet as the man frowned at him. "I joined the Knights on a whim," the wizard admitted. "Sure, I like the Chocobo Knights, I like the whole lot of you, and staying with you will be easier than going at this by myself. You know where to go while I have no idea, and you have information I haven't, so that's handy. But if you kick me out, I'll probably figure out another way."

He probably would get some help from the Guado – at least they would be able to point him the right way. As Unsent, he didn't really need the comforts offered by the Knights either – he could go without eating and sleeping, so that would be fine. All he would really lose was all the cool gear and guidance. "So don't fight your morals on account of that," he said and shrugged his shoulders. "If you can't stomach seeing an Unsent in your troops, it's okay, sir. Just tell me to go, and I'll be off."

"So easy?" Adrak asked, sighing. "You are a strange man, Harry." Shaking his head, the Captain stepped closer to the banister that separated the walkway they were standing on from good twenty-foot drop to the lower levels of the wooden city.

"It is strange to think it now, but for all my life I have lived with the knowledge that Sin can only be defeated by a Summoner," the Captain said slowly. "Even when I joined the Bevelle Knights, even when I took over as the Captain… I maintained that belief."

Harry frowned. That seemed a bit strange, considering that the Chocobo Knights were supposed to fight Sin. "So you don't think I can do it either," the wizard asked, crossing his hands behind his neck. "That's okay."

Adrak frowned, folding his arms and for a while saying nothing. "I have seen Sin seven times in my life – mostly in passing, twice in hopeless battles me and my men escaped only by luck," he admitted. "It is bigger than I can comprehend. Bigger than any strength I could muster to fight it. One man… could never face such a force and win. Unless that one man was a Summoner, with the Final Aeon at his side."

The man turned to Harry. "You are not a Summoner. So what makes you suitable to become the one chosen for this task?"

Harry's casual smile faded away, and for a moment he just looked into Adrak's eyes. The man was seriously asking it from him – not like Seymour had, with disbelief, not like Jyscal had, unable to even hope. The Captain was asking it from the bottom of his heart.

"Suitable? Who knows. Maybe nothing. But… in my world, I lived to be a hundred and twenty seven years old," the wizard said, looking away. In Spira he didn't look like it – he definitely didn't feel like it, with his new Pyrefly-born body being suitably fit and under thirty, but he had been old. "And after that I remained as a ghost for hundreds of years, before Earth slumbered away. It's a… long time to learn a trick or two."

"But not enough to save your world?" Adrak challenged.

Harry chuckled. "There was little point, in the end," he murmured, thinking back. The final years of humanity as he had known it hadn't been pretty. Sure, he could've tried to offer them the means to survive, but by that time… well. The ones that would've accepted hadn't deserved it, and those that would've hadn't felt themselves deserving, not after all the devastation. In the end, humanity had faded away with whimpers, but it had gone away fairly peacefully, the majority of it accepting its fate.

Besides, there was little even a wizard could do about the atmospheric changes of an entire planet, not to mention about changing the axial tilt of a world. Defeating a colossal immortal monster was _cakewalk_ compared to that.

Shaking his head, the wizard turned to look at Guadosalam. "Spira isn't like Earth, anyway. In a way, the people of my planet deserved what they got. Considering that Sin has been plaguing you for a thousand years, I think it's safe to bet that if there ever was a person responsible for its existence…that person is long gone. Even if I hadn't already fallen in love with this world; that would make you easily worth saving."

"Sin is the embodiment of our crimes and greed, the punishment for our vanity," Adrak said. It sounded like a quote. "We are all responsible."

"If that's it, then why only a thousand years? Sin should've been there since the dawn of your self-awareness, not just this small moment in time, if it was the embodiment of your sins," Harry shook his head.

"It came, when the machina wars got out of hand," Adrak said and made a thoughtful sound. "Much like in your world, in Spira there was a time when the people had enough power to destroy this world. They nearly did – before Sin came, and destroyed all the machina cities as punishment for their greed."

Harry shrugged – though it was interesting. No one had yet to mention a war. "It doesn't really matter to me what you think – I've never believed in the concept of sins in any case," he said. If there was a war, and Sin had appeared in the middle of it – or at the end of it… then maybe the monstrosity was Spira's version of a doomsday device, someone's last desperate means to fight in the war. A doomsday device that had gotten out of hand.

Next time he saw Bahamut's Fayth, he would need to ask about that.

The Captain eyed him for a moment. "You don't believe in Yevon," he said suddenly, making it sound like a revelation.

"Faith and religion and whatnot, they've never been my thing," Harry agreed, and glanced at the man. "Is that a problem?"

Adrak scoffed, looking away. "Your very existence is a problem," he said. "An Unsent, a non Summoner, someone not even from this world… defeat Sin? I can't wrap my head around it. It seems… utterly absurd." After a moment of tense silence, the Captain sighed. "But… if there is even the slightest chance that you could be the one to end Sin's circle of rebirths forever, the one to bring eternal Calm… it is not something I can ignore."

With a shake of his head, Adrak lifted his helmet and put it on, bringing the visor down. "You can remain with the Knights, and you have my aid. But know that I don't approve of any of this."

"Yes, sir. I will remember that," Harry answered, and leaned back against the wooden banister while the Captain walked off, back straight and posture stiff. Shaking his head, Harry turned his gaze first to the ground and then to the wooden city around them. Adrak was a good man, stout in his beliefs. Even if it meant that the man loathed his very existence, Harry could respect that.

"I guess in this world I'm a heathen of the worst sort," he mused, smiling slightly before turning to lean his elbows on the rail and leaning forward for a better look. Guadosalam was a fascinating place. Before Adrak called the knights together for their departure, he would enjoy the sight of it.

 

* * *

 

Harry wasn't entirely sure what Adrak told the other knights about the way the Guado had reacted to Harry, but he must've said something since the strange and somewhat dark looks Harry had gotten before had evaporated. As they left the wooden city, Harry wondered about that, and about the Guado in general. It seemed that they all had the power to sense an Unsent – and that everyone knew it. Something to do with the entrance to the Farplane they had, maybe? It didn't really matter as such, but it was interesting.

"Harry, to the front with me," Adrak called from the front, as they mounted their chocobos in the crystalline clearing just beyond the southern entrance of Guadosalam. Frowning, Harry mounted Sol and hurried to the Captain's side. "I haven't informed anyone of what I have found out," the Captain said, as they rode ahead and slightly out of the hearing range of everyone else.

"Thank you, sir," Harry nodded.

"There are some issues we need to address, however, before we join our brothers from Djose and Mi'ihen Highroad," Adrak continued. "Namely, your ignorance about Spira. If you wish to blend in and not be discovered, you need to stop asking strange questions. Also, there is your magic. While effective, it is not the same as the magic used by the mages of this world, and thus will stand out to anyone who has a little more experience with such matters."

"Alright," Harry said slowly. "You have a point there, sir. But what can I do about that – there's no one among the Knights to teach me the magic of Spira."

"No, there isn't," Adrak agreed. "Therefore, once we make it to Mi'ihen Highroad, I suggest you take some time to visit Luca. The libraries there should give you some idea about how to proceed there. And until then, you will refrain from using magic, unless lives depend on it. In the meantime, I will do what I can to fill the holes in your understanding of Spira."

"That sounds like a plan," the wizard nodded, and leaned back a bit in his saddle. "So. What will we start with?"

"As it seems the main concern of your mission… let's start with Sin."

Had Harry known that lecturing was one of Adrak's many hidden talents, he would've declined the offer. What followed was indeed that, a lecture – if not an actual _sermon_ – about Sin, and how the beast had supposedly came to be. There was a lot said about the arrogance of humans and how they had tried to defy nature's laws with their machines and how Sin was their punishment. If Harry hadn't known at least a little about the man, he would've thought that Adrak was intentionally trying to rot his head with the greed and vanity and arrogance talk as revenge for his Unsent-heathenish ways.

What followed that, though, was more interesting. Harry knew a little about Yunalesca, but not all, for one he hadn't known about Zaon, her Guardian and husband, who had helped her defeat Sin – and became the Second Sin, most likely, though Adrak didn't know that. He also hadn't known about the way summoning had changed along the way, because in the beginning there hadn't been so many Fayths, or how the Pilgrimages of Summoners and the Yevonite religion had blended together, and how the temples originally had had nothing to do with the Yevonite religion but had been sort of mixed into it later on, and so forth.

How Adrak could believe in the Yevon religion even after specifically explaining how the thing had transformed along the years and more or less amalgamated bits and pieces of other religions into itself, Harry didn't know. It didn't really matter at this point either, and it wasn't Harry's job to tell people what to believe and what not to. All he had to do was listen and remember and figure the best ways to untangle the whole mess.

The more he heard about the Yevonite religion, the summoning and Sin, the more he realised that to defeat one, he would have to destroy it all. Summoning was an integral part of Sin, and the Yevonite religion revolved around them both, so, if he defeated Sin… everything else would most likely fall as well, like a house of cards. It was still a bit early to think that, he still hadn't even seen Sin after all, but still.

The whole mess was bigger than he had originally assumed. Not just a monster, but a religion and an art of magic and the beliefs of entire societies and the way of life for millions of people. And he had to tackle it all.

What fun.

As Adrak moved on to explain more about the Yevonites and about the temples and whatnot, they soon arrived at Moonflow, which turned out to be a large, slowly drifting river. It was yet another of those beautiful Spira things, Harry also found, as they stopped at the river bank to rest for a moment. The entire river was covered by beautiful purple lilies – Moonlilies, apparently – and above them flickered dozens of Pyreflies.

"We'll be following the river thorough the evening and until the night, so we'll be seeing the Pyreflies gather," Adrak said, while giving his bird a light brushing. "They do it every night – especially so during the full moon."

"It's pretty," Harry answered with a sigh and a smile, crouching down at the water's edge and soaking his fingers in the water. It was warm. "Your entire world is so pretty. Aside from the Thunder Plains, I have yet to see an average looking spot in this place. Or an ugly one."

"I'm glad you appreciate it," the Captain answered with a frown. "You really like this world, don't you?"

"I do," Harry agreed. "Spira's been incredibly hospitable. And it is beautiful," he said, reaching out and snapping the stem of one of the lilies, drawing the flower into his hand. "Plus, after who knows how long in space… it's nice to just experience things again. Spira gave me that, and I'm never going to forget it."

The Captain hummed slightly before putting his brush away. "I suppose there's something in that, that makes you suitable," he mused. "We people of Spira appreciate our world. But, deep inside… I think we all also hate it. Our love, for as long as Sin remains, will never be unconditional or untainted by sorrow."

Harry shrugged. "Can't blame you for that. Living in constant fear would make it hard for me too. Being Unsent eases the strain somewhat, I suppose," he said and stood up. Grinning, he attached the Moonlily to the chest of his armour. It smelled wonderful. "Though I suppose that's not a state of existence people would wish to share."

"Indeed," Adrak mused and glanced at the other knights, who were tending to their birds a little further away. "Five minutes, and then we'll move out. We'll be camping at the crossing, and I want to make it there before sundown," he called to the knights, who answered in the affirmative before turning to quickly finish their tasks.

"In your world, what did you do? There was no Sin to fight there, so I imagine life was… easier," Adrak assumed, looking at Harry.

"In a way yes, in a way no. The thing about great monsters like Sin is that they unite people – everyone shares the same opponent so everyone has something in common, something important," Harry said and sighed. "Earth didn't have that, so people were always fractured. Into nations and sets of beliefs and whatnot. And always there was someone out there trying to exploit this and that flaw in the system – or just simply exploit those around them."

Shaking his head he turned to Sol who was finished eating her greens, and mounted the bird. "I was a law enforcement officer for about twenty years, a politician for another thirty, and then I became a trainer, a teacher," he said, thinking back. "And then I became a bartender."

"A… bartender," Adrak asked slowly.

"Yes. Best way to retire really, tending a bar," Harry grinned. "What about you, sir? What made you join the Chocobo Knights?"

Adrak frowned, before lifting himself up to his chocobo's saddle. "Hopelessness," he answered after a moment. "My wife died on the Calm Lands, attacked by fiends. The Crusaders stationed there delivered the word of her death to me, but never managed to retrieve her remains for burial or Sending. I… wanted to ensure it would never happen to anyone else."

The man shook his head. "I thought of joining the Crusaders first. At that time the Bevelle Chocobo Knights were a small organisation, they only had twenty members and their duties with the Knights were light – most had jobs and being part of the Knights was more of a hobby for them, for the few chocobo enthusiasts in Bevelle. The Crusaders on other hand were two thousand strong and ever growing, not to mention that they functioned under and with the Church's funding."

"What made you join the Knights instead?"

Adrak smiled, snorting softly. "Cowardice," he admitted. "The Crusaders are a… busy organisation. They travel and they fight Sin – and they do it often. I wanted to help people, but to be honest… I didn't want to fight Sin. The Bevelle Chocobo Knights on the other hand only patrolled the Calm Lands, and that was about all they did at the time. That was what I wanted."

Harry raised his eyebrows. After having seen the man in battle and heard his speeches about Sin… it was hard to believe that the man had joined the Knights out of cowardice. Especially since it was apparently Adrak's doing that the Bevelle Knights were so strong now. "I guess something changed."

"Hm. I saw the potential in the Chocobo Knights," Adrak agreed. "I met with Metryn, and Tar – the oldest members of the Knights. They had so many great plans, for armour and gear, and for manoeuvres that took advantage of a chocobo's speed, strength and agility. I wanted to see them come to fruition. When the previous Captain retired due to age, and I was voted to take over, I did my best to see my Chocobo Knights achieve that efficiency. And they did."

Together they watched as the other knights mounted. They were, even after all the time spent among them, an impressive sight to Harry. Armoured and sturdy, moving easily into formation. The strict training shone through in every efficient move, as did the training to take all the benefit from their gear. With shields and lances and spears shining in the sunlight, they looked like a force to be reckoned with.

"You said you've seen Sin before. What was it like?" Harry asked thoughtfully, wondering how they fared against it.

"The couple of times I've fought Sin was utterly hopeless, like fighting a mountain. Mostly we fought against Sin spawns rather than the beast itself, but fighting Sin is always about fighting the things it leaves behind. Only Summoners can fight Sin itself," Adrak said. "Thinking back to those desperate battles… this operation will be the first time we will be truly fighting it."

Harry nodded, and then watched thoughtfully while Adrak ordered the knights to move out.

That night they spent on the banks of the Moonflow river, watching how the Pyreflies gathered. It was a beautiful sight, the whole river seemed to shine and glimmer with the light of the ethereal fires, and watching it Harry could almost forget that he was essentially watching lost souls.

While the other knights made a fire and dined, he stepped to the edge of water, wondering why no one had ever performed a Sending there. With singe glance he could see some half-hundred Pyreflies, and he was seeing, what, a fraction of a percentage of the river's entire length? How many Pyreflies were there dancing there, hundreds, thousands?

"This world seriously needs some exorcists," he mused, sitting down at the shoreline and throwing a rock into the water. Only the water was disturbed – the pyreflies didn't even seem to notice.

"Will you become one?" a familiar voice asked, and sighing Harry stopped himself from glancing behind his shoulder. If the Fayth insisted on appearing where he couldn't see the boy, then the boy could just enjoy not having eye contact.

"Maybe later. Right now I still have things to figure out," the wizard answered. "Tell me about Sin and Yevon. It all ties together somehow, doesn't it?"

The boy was quiet for a moment, before saying, "Yevon is the power that recreates Sin," he said after a moment. "You know of the war between Bevelle and Zanarkand, correct?"

"I heard there was a war, but that's it," Harry answered, frowning. "I didn't know it was between those two."

"It was. The arts of summoning came from Zanarkand originally, while Bevelle was known for its machina," the Fayth said. "They were both powerful, and wanted to become even more so. Who knows which side started the war, or what was the original spark, but it raged on ferociously."

The boy shifted closer, and stepped on top of the water. Harry glanced at him curiously, as the boy reached out his transparent hand to touch the Pyreflies. "The war was brutal, but though Zanarkand fought with all it had, Bevelle's machina had advantages Zanarkand lacked. So, Zanarkand eventually begun loosing and the city's destruction was imminent. It was then that Zanarkand's leader, Yu Yevon, came up with the desperate final plan, and created Sin."

Harry frowned. "And Yu Yevon was a man?" he asked.

"A man, a mage, a powerful Summoner. A desperate warrior, fighting a losing war. He used the surviving people of Zanarkand to craft an armour for himself, and that armour is Sin," the Fayth said quietly. "But he could not control it, and the weapon he had poised at Bevelle attacked Zanarkand instead."

"Oh, yikes," Harry muttered. Talk about falling on your own sword.

"We Fayth could not let the city go afterwards, and so we began to dream of Zanarkand as we remember it. In the meantime, Yu Yevon's daughter, Yunalesca, took it upon herself to defeat the monster her father had created. She did it, at the cost of the life of her husband, Zaon, and herself. The original Sin was destroyed by the mighty Aeon Zaon became, but the power of Yu Yevon's creation was relentless – the power of Yu Yevon's own desire to remain was overwhelming. And so it took the first Final Aeon, and so the Second Sin was created."

"And it goes on and on from there. Yunalesca is an Unsent, I suppose?" Harry asked, recalling what Shiva's Fayth had told him.

"That she is. She creates the Final Aeon, the Aeon and Sin fight, and the Aeon becomes Sin after it's victory," the Fayth sighed. "And meanwhile we Fayth dream and dream and dream."

Harry nodded, wondering. "You said that this world was plagued by a dream," he said, thinking back. "Was that the dream you were talking about, you dreaming of Zanarkand?"

"That, and Yu Yevon's dream too. Only his is now a nightmare, and he can't see beyond it," the Fayth shook his head. "We hold onto our Zanarkand, because it is all we can do. It distracts us and Sin draws power from it. It is a vicious circle."

"Hm. I guess," Harry answered, and shook his head. "How does the Yevonite religion fit in all this?" he asked. "If Yu Yevon is Sin…."

"It was Bevelle's attempt to appease Yu Yevon. It grew beyond itself in time, and now it is a machina onto itself, unable to cease functioning. Much like Sin, much like us," The Fayth stepped back to the shore, shaking his head. "You were discovered," he said suddenly.

"Yeah, apparently Guado can sense these things – which is something I would've liked to have known before hand," Harry answered, giving him a look.

"I'm sorry. We thought we had succeeded in hiding you, but the power of the Guado is greatest in Guadosalam – they, like Summoners, can draw strength from the Farplane and Pyreflies, and Guadosalam is connected to them intimately," the Fayth said. "We will take… further steps."

"Like what?" Harry asked, frowning.

"There are ways through which we can intensify your life, and mask your death," the Fayth admitted. "We would make you… alive again, but we do not have that kind of power."

"Probably better you don't, being dead gives me a bit of an advantage," Harry shook his head and stood up. "If you can mask me, I'd appreciate it. It could've been worse than it was, being discovered, but I'd prefer it didn't happen again. Also, if you can do something about the whole Sending thing, I'd appreciate that too."

"We'll do what we can," the Fayth promised. "Sleep tonight. It will make it easier for us."

Harry nodded and watched as the Fayth faded away. He then cast a last look at the glowing Moonflow, before turning to head back to the camp.

"Good talk?" Adrak asked as he approached the man.

"Illuminating, sir. I'll try to be more inconspicuous next time," Harry answered. "I need to get some sleep. Do you need me for anything?"

Adrak shook his head and motioned at his own tent. "Go," he said, and little awkwardly Harry did. Behind him he could hear Metryn and Tar asking Adrak something – most likely what was going on. Adrak was giving him some special treatment, Harry knew, and after Guadosalam people couldn't help but notice, regardless of what the Captain had said to them.

Well, he'd let Adrak handle it now, he mused while starting to loosen the straps of his armour. He would probably be cornered about it eventually, but right now… he had some Zs to catch.

 


	6. Chapter 6

"Okay. This is interesting," Harry murmured, after finding himself staring at a magnificent technological city that put the enormous muggle cities of Earth in shame. Sleek black metal and glowing lights – and water just about everywhere, raining down like waterfalls from the buildings, and floating in the air, defying gravity. Here and there, it even formed the walkways and held the buildings up.

"This is Zanarkand," the boy Fayth's voice spoke from behind him, making Harry sigh with slight irritation. "As we remember it, in any case, but we've held onto our memories as well as we have been able to."

"It was incredible," Harry said, lacing his fingers behind his head and then noticing that he was wearing his gauntlets. Glancing down he saw that he was in full armour. Interesting. "So, is this my dream or is this your dream or are we somewhere in between?"

"This is our dream. We brought you here because it will make things easier. And I wanted you to see _him_."

Harry frowned slightly and then turned around, to see that he wasn't standing on a bridge of some sort after all, but that he was actually on a boat – and he wasn't alone. There was a crowd of people there, mostly teenage girls and kids, who were chatting amongst themselves, giggling. Just about all of them were holding strange balls of blue and white in their hands.

"Him?" Harry asked after a moment, glancing down at the Fayth. No one there stood out, exactly.

"Him," the Fayth nodded ahead. Looking up again, Harry saw a blonde young man coming across the ship's deck, approaching the crowd. "He is the son of Jetch, who is the current Sin."

Harry nodded slowly, tilting his head a little to the side and glancing at the boy from head to toe. What a getup. "Wait," he said. "The current Sin, you mean, the Guardian of High Summoner Braska? But I thought this was a _dream_."

The Fayth sighed, shaking his head. "We tried," he said. "Jetch was the hero of this dream Zanarkand. He was strong and proud and… different. We thought… we hoped that he could be the one to end the spiral. So we brought him out of the dream, and into Spira…" The boy shook his head. "But he failed, and everything happened the way it always did."

"And you think this kid will have a better chance?" Harry asked, thoughtfully. "What makes him special?"

"Like Jetch, he is a hero. And as such, he is the best formed individual of the dream," the Fayth admitted. "He has strength the other dreams here lack, because we Fayth all love him the most. Like we did with Jetch."

"Ah, right. You've paid more attention to him, so he's more rounded than the rest," Harry mused, glancing at the other people on the deck. They were kind of… bland feeling, in comparison to the boy. Forgettable and faint, while the kid was strong and bright. "So, if I fail, it's up to this kid, huh?"

"Or vice versa," the Fayth agreed.

Harry hummed thoughtfully and lowered his hands. "This is a dream, right?" he asked.

"Yes."

"And you create it – you can change it and transform it, right? I mean, you have to, if you brought the current Sin out of it…."

The Fayth frowned. "What are you thinking?"

"I don't know, exactly," Harry admitted, stroking his fingers over his chin – the only part of his face that was in view, thanks to the visor of his helmet. "But if I were you, I would buff that kid to high heavens. If I fail, he's the one who has to do it. And if Sin is as bad of a bastard I think he is, the kid's gonna need all the help he can get. So, dream up some advantages for him, give him weapons, knowledge, power. Anything."

The Fayth frowned. "You have no such advantages."

Harry snorted. "That's what you think. I haven't really needed to do anything yet, so I haven't. But really, I can create all the advantages I need – I am a wizard, you know, and we bend reality," he said, shaking his head. "I suppose the kid has to have something special in him, since you're choosing him over the rest, but a little bit of extra wouldn't hurt, I bet."

The ghostly boy looked away, and towards their chosen dream, while the dream stepped forward and chattered among the people on the deck. To Harry it looked a little like they were his fans or something – which, judging by the sight of him signing the balls, was probably the truth. A sports hero, maybe?

"Teach us how to blitz!" a group of the dream kids demanded, making the blond hero scratch his neck awkwardly.

"Hey, I got a game to play," he said, to which the kids demanded he teach them afterwards. "Uh, tonight. Well…."

"You can't tonight," the Fayth interrupted, making the blonde glance backwards at him and Harry. The teen frowned at them, and then turned back to the kids, as if seeing a slightly transparent boy and a knight on the deck of a ship in a highly technological city was nothing out of norm.

"Tomorrow then," the blond promised the kids, who thanked him by performing the Prayer on him.

"You dream strange dreams," Harry noted, a little amused by the way the blonde scratched the back of his neck again, looking sheepish.

The Fayth nodded. "Advantages," he murmured thoughtfully. "Like what?"

"Something that would be, I don't know, advantageous?" Harry asked, snorting. "Especially against Sin."

The boy frowned and looked away. "Something that is advantageous against Sin. But we do not wish him to become a… Summoner," he said, sounding almost sullen. "Summoners fail and die and the spiral continues."

Harry shrugged. "Then don't. There are other powers," he said, and then grinned as a thought came to him. "Make him an exorcist," he suggested, folding his arms. "Or something like that. That way maybe he can make a bit of a dent on Sin's forces, and make sure any fiends he encounters won't just reassemble themselves."

The Fayth blinked and looked up at him. "You really think that would be useful?" he asked thoughtfully.

"Don't you? The fact that there's Pyreflies everywhere for anyone to grab is pretty much what powers this whole mess. If you can get rid of those, there won't be any fiends and Sin will be weaker," Harry answered. "Sure, I guess that would affect Summoners too, and of course, one man can't exactly do it all, but you already said that Summoners can't do the trick and everything has to start somewhere. So. Try an exorcist. What do you have to lose?"

There was a moment of quiet at the Fayth thought it through. "Maybe," he said finally.

Harry nodded, satisfied. "And whatever you do, don't leave him in the dark about what he's supposed to do," he added, sharply, thinking back to his own years as a boy-hero. Dumbledore had kept him in the dark for _years_ and it had only gotten people killed. "He'll have much better chances if he knows what to do, trust me. Especially if he knows more than just what he has to do."

The boy beside him shifted uncomfortably. "We cannot be upfront," he said. "His existence relies partly on his own belief in himself – if he knew --"

"Then don't tell him that, but tell him everything else. Voice of experience talking here," Harry said. "The more he knows, the better for everyone. Ignorance is _not_ bliss when the world depends on him knowing what to do."

The Fayth dipped his head a bit but not in agreement. After a moment the boy turned to look at the teenage hero again, who was now heading off, apparently to go to his game. "It's time," the Fayth said, turning to Harry. "We will alter you now, then we must attend to Tidus. He will be arriving at Spira tonight, and we need to concentrate on that."

"Tidus, huh," Harry murmured and nodded. He'd remember that name. "Alright. Let's get to it."

 

* * *

 

Harry felt a little bit strange when he woke up. It took him a moment to realise why. Lifting his hand up, he eyed his fingers thoughtfully, spreading them wide. They felt different. His whole body felt different. It felt… more solid. Meaty, in a way.

"Hm," he grunted, and shimmied his fingers past the collar of his leather jacket and to his throat, searching for his pulse. He found it soon enough, beating heavily and just the tiniest bit erratically. He'd had it before, he knew, he had even had blood and everything, he had been able to bleed. But it had all seemed so automated, following a simple pattern. Now… it was more chaotic, hesitating just slightly when he breathed in deep – and that was interesting too, because breathing felt a bit different. Deeper.

Shifting into a seated position, he ran his fingers over his face and smiled. His skin had felt oddly smooth before, even with the bandages. Now he could feel slightest imperfections, early indents that one day could become wrinkles, the slightly rough feel of his pores, hint of a stubble. It was like someone had added the finishing touches to him.

The Fayth had done as they had promised. He could feel it, though he was still very much dead, the mimicry of life was… more thorough now.

Swinging himself up from his bedroll, Harry glanced at the still sleeping Captain, before quickly collecting his armour as quietly as he could and sneaking out of the tent. The knight on guard glanced at him and said nothing, as Harry made his way to the shore line of the Moonflow, leaving his armour on a rock nearby. He wanted to jump into the water, and take some good strokes among the lilies to enjoy the new details of his body, but he knew there wouldn't be time for that – any moment now the others would start getting up and ready to move out.

Well, it didn't matter. Soaking his hands in the water up to his elbows, and then dunking his head under the surface was almost as good. And it felt _great._ He hadn't realised it before, but before his sense of feeling had been a bit off here and there – but now he could feel the water soaking his hair all the way to his scalp, and how it trickled down the lines of his ears when he pulled up again.

It was magnificent – and Moonflow was blessedly cold.

"Didn't think that Unsents needed baths," a familiar gruff voice noted, steps approaching Harry who looked over his shoulder. It was Tar, who like him had yet to put his armour back on. Feeling still a little euphoric with the heightened sense of feeling, it took Harry a moment to catch up with what the other knight had said.

Tar snorted as Harry gave him a worried look. "I'm no fool," he snapped, crouching down beside the wizard. "With the way the Guado were all glaring at you, it could only be so many things – either you had insulted them horribly and maybe burned half of their forest down, or you were an Unsent – and with you staring at the place like someone had struck you on the head, I figured it was the latter."

"Ah. Well. I suppose, when put that way…" Harry trailed away, pushing his wet hair back and away from his forehead. As his thumb grazed the line of the bandage, he realised with a grimace that he probably should've removed it before dunking his head – it was soaked through. "So, what are you going to do?" he asked while starting to peel the sodden bandage off.

"Do? About you being Unsent? Not a damn thing, I suppose. Adrak obviously knows, with the way he's been hovering over you. And since Maester Jyscal let you walk out there without Sending, I suppose there's a purpose for it," Tar answered, making a cup of his hands and lifting some water to his face. After washing for a moment, he wiped the water away and stood up again. "All I want to know is if you're going to be a hindrance or an asset."

The wizard eyed the armourer for a moment before humming thoughtfully. "I'd like to be the latter, but I need to keep it all quiet. I have stuff to do and letting people know what I am might hinder that – and I really wouldn't want to be Sent, just yet. I have a bit of an immersion problem though. It's been a while since I was alive," he admitted. "Adrak's told me I'll be going to Luca to learn some magic once we make it to Mi'ihen. After that, hopefully I'll be of more use than I am now."

"Hm," Tar grunted and nodded. "I'll talk with him, see what he's got in mind, what I can do to smooth his plans along the edges. He tends to think straight as a sword, that man, and that's not always good enough," he mused. "Metryn suspects too, by the way. And the rest are stupid if they don't suspect _something_."

"I'll keep that in mind," Harry promised and watched how the elder knight gathered his armour and headed off. After a moment the wizard sighed, rubbing his wounded cheek. So much for keeping things secret, he mused. Then he shook his head, and dunked his head under the water one more time, just because he could.

After washing and enjoying the new details of his body as well as he could without becoming completely indecent, Harry spent some minutes pulling on the plates of his armour, before making his way to camp again. However after seeing Adrak, Metryn and Tar deep in hushed conversation a little further away – and the way they all glanced at him when he arrived – he decided to go the other way instead. Whatever Adrak and the others were talking about would probably go better without him there, making things more complicated than they had to be – and right then he wasn't feeling like getting into the conversation of _how could an Unsent do anything, when he wasn't even a Summoner_. The day was too nice to ruin it with that.

 So, pushing his wet hair back and away from his face, he made his way to the chocobo pen that the knights had set up the previous evening. Sol kwehed happily at the sight of him and while the other knights began coming out of the tents and going about making some breakfast, he tended to first his own chocobo – and then to the others, who came closer at the sight of Sol getting brushed. He was almost done with just about all of them, when the knight in charge of cooking that morning called the others to eat.

In the end, neither Meryn nor Tar said anything about his Unsent state, even if Harry was perfectly certain that Adrak had told them the whole deal. Whether the man had told them the defeat-Sin part he didn't know, but he had definitely said something meaningful, because both of the armourer and the chocobo specialist acted no different than before. Tar even went about checking his armour as if he hadn't been getting it right for days now, and Metryn nodded approvingly after seeing the chocobos.

What it meant, Harry wasn't sure, but he took it as a good sign.

"We'll cross the Moonflow just a mile north of here," Adrak told them all, after breakfast had been eaten and the tents had been packed. "After that it will be a couple of hours ride until Djose – but we will most likely just past the Djose temple on our way to Mushroom Rock. After that, it's the highroad, so we won't be stopping for anything unnecessary. It'll be a long ride, of course, and Mushroom Rock is always tricky terrain to cross, but unless we run into trouble, we will make it to Mi'ihen Highroad just before midnight."

He eyed them all, waiting for questions and objections and when none was voiced, he nodded. "Let's mount then. The sooner we get on the road, the sooner we will arrive."

Crossing the Moonflow was a quick, wet affair – even on Chocobo's back the water reached Harry to mid-thigh and after the minutes spent going from one shore to the other, it felt like he had all the water and slime of the river in his boots. Sol seemed to agree with his dismay and spent the next ten minutes of riding trying to ruffle her feathers and flap her wings to get the water out.

After that, though, the journey was more than pleasant. The shore of the Moonflow was very beautiful and fragrant, with flowers growing all over the place – and they spent a good hour following the river southwards before Adrak led them off the road and to a rather thin path through the forests. The forests themselves didn't last for long, before giving away for more rocky terrain where only grass grew abundantly.

"What is that?" Harry asked after some time of riding, peering up ahead. There was a sort of mountain or very rocky hill up ahead, and for a moment it had looked like there was light coming out of it. Some sort of sparkling light.

"That'll be the light of the Djose temple. It'll get clearer when get closer to it," Metryn said, for the first time in a long while not giving him a strange look for asking. Instead the man looked at the other novices. "Chocobos tend to get a bit nervous about the noise the temple makes, so keep a good grip on your reigns, all of you. Stay calm and your birds will follow your lead."

As they came to the actual road, which soon became a cluster of bridges that crossed over the water of what Harry at first thought was a fractured lake, but turned out to be the shoreline of the sea instead. "The EasternSea, to be exact," Metryn said. "It doesn't look like much, but at the MushroomRockBay it's pretty impressive sight."

"I see," the wizard answered, rubbing the back of his neck thoughtfully and giving the man a thoughtful look. He wasn't only not looking at Harry weirdly, but he was explaining things before the wizard got the chance to ask. But there was somehow a weird distance in that. "Are you mad at me, Metryn?"

"A bit," the man admitted, giving him a crooked smile. "Adrak told me why he's keeping it quiet so I'll keep my big mouth shut too. I just can't see why we can't tell to the others."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "That's what bugging you?" he asked with surprise. "Not me, I mean…" he motioned at himself. "Thing?"

Metryn waved his hand dismissively. "My father came back to tell my mother some things when I was still a kid, and it wasn't that big of a deal really."

Harry eyed the man and shook his head, chuckling softly. "I wouldn't mind everyone in this world knowing, Metryn, if they also knew to leave me alone," he admitted. "But they probably wouldn't, so… what can you do?"

"Hm. I suppose you're right about that," the chocobo specialist mused and then gave the wizard a thoughtful look. "One thing, though. How old are you really? Because some of the things you say, they don't make too much sense."

"I really have no idea," Harry laughed.

They soon came to the front of the Djose temple and Harry saw exactly why the chocobos would get fidgety around the place. Like the Macalania temple, Djose seemed to embody an element in its design, and though it was most obviously a very rocky place, it was definitely not earth. While he stared up at the lightning flickering above the temple, where enormous rocks floated, suspended by the wild energy sparkling about them, he had to wonder if the rest of the temples were like it.

Only when he looked down from the impressive display of power, he saw that he was being expected. "Um, sir," he called up ahead and to Adrak before nodding back at the temple – and at the male Fayth who stood by the entrance.

Adrak frowned before pulling at his chocobo's reigns to turn it towards Harry. "I should've considered it," the man murmured while leaning in to speak to Harry in a semblance of privacy while the rest of the knights eyed them curiously. "How long do you need?"

"I have no idea," the wizard admitted, glancing at the Fayth. He was an impressive looking fellow, and he was scowling rather fiercely at Harry's direction, looking impatient. "I'll try to be quick?" he offered somewhat uncertainly.

"Even _quick_ is time we can't waste – not if we want to make it to the highroad at any reasonable hour," Adrak frowned a little, glancing at the temple but unable to see the fayth. After a moment of furious thinking the man glanced at the other knights – who were now whispering amongst themselves. "Alright," he said, and turned to Metryn. "How fast would you say Sol is?"

"Hm. Well, she's a big bird – and she's got the benefit of having been wild all her life, so she's pretty used to moving. I'd say she's got the build to become one of fastest birds we have, once she gets some proper training," Metryn said and gave Harry's mount a thoughtful look. "I think she'd be able to catch up even if you got an hour's head start – even more so, once she gets a chance to rest."

"That sounds about right," Adrak nodded.

"Yeah, except for the fact that I'd probably get lost within ten minutes," Harry said, eyeing his Captain a bit incredulously.

"Don't be stupid. I'll be staying behind with you," Metryn said, patting Berka's neck. "My boy might be older than most of our birds, but he's still a bird from Mi'ihen, and no Mi'ihen bird will lose to a CalmLand's bird in speed."

"Good, then it is settled," Adrak said, nodding. "I'll see you in the Mi'ihen Highroad at the latest."

"Yes sir," Metryn nodded, and while Harry scratched the back of his neck awkwardly beneath the stares of the rest of the knights, he and Metryn waited was Adrak called a move out, leaving the two of them behind.

"So," Metryn said once they could only see the tail feathers of the other Chocobo Knights. "Now they'll all think you're a Summoner, probably," he said, grinning.

"Would be easier if I were, I bet," Harry sighed, but smiled regardless. Then he turned towards the temple, dismounting from Sol's back while Metryn slid down from Berka's saddle.

"You go on ahead. I'll just wait in the Travel Agency, after I put the birds into the stable and see about getting some greens for them," Metryn said, and with a thankful nod Harry handed Sol's reigns to him, before turning to the Fayth waiting for him.

"So, you're the punk I've been hearing about," the Fayth said, as Harry stepped closer. "I gotta say, you look better than that Tidus fellow the rest of them are so keen about, that's for damn certain," the man added, nodding appreciatively at Harry's armour. "You'll float like a boulder, I bet, but it's definitely better than nothing. It might even take more than a fraction of a second for Sin to squish you."

"Um, thanks?" Harry offered somewhat awkwardly, and the Fayth barked a laugh at him.

"I gotta tell you, I don't much care about this whole business one way or the other. I've been a Fayth for a while now, and at this point one supposed hero looks just about the same as the other one to me. I get what makes you special, or what makes the others think you are in any case, but really, it doesn't matter one jot to me," the man added, before motioning Harry to come closer. "Come on. There's some stuff I need to tell you that everyone else is too chicken shit to talk about."

"If you don't care, why do you need to tell me?" Harry asked, but more curious than objecting, and followed the man to the doors of the temple.

"Because if there's a chance you actually might pull it off, then using the time to tell you is a moment well spent," the Fayth said, shrugging his shoulders. "I hate Sin as much as any other Fayth, make no mistake. Probably more than they do, I lost practically a whole fleet of ships to the bugger. I'd feel a whole lot better knowing that it's not bothering sailors out there no more."

"Okay, I'll buy that," Harry murmured, pushing the temple doors open. Inside the place wasn't as impressive as the Macalania temple, but there was definitely the same design to the place – the same circular space for the entrance hall, similarity statues here and there. Only where Macalania had had ice and crystals, Djose had rock and lightning. "What's the name of your Aeon?" Harry asked curiously, after making sure there was no one near to hear.

"Ixion, the thunder unicorn," the Fayth said, snorting. "That's another thing. Aeons are formed from the inner spirits of us Fayths – from what we value and what we fear – and what we respect. I had a healthy fear and respect for storms, I got Ixion. Shiva's Fayth was a cold hearted witch in life and she got Shiva. Makes you think what's the deal with Bahamut, being a dragon and all."

"Okay," Harry nodded. So, Bahamut was a dragon. He hadn't known that.

"Come this way. There's no one but the priests here, since this temple isn't that popular with travellers – they tend to pass this place by and head to Moonflow instead, since it's prettier," the Fayth of Ixion said, and led Harry to the common rooms which were much smaller and simpler than those of Macalania as well. "If anyone comes in, you can just tell them you needed to take a piss, or something."

"I'll keep that in mind," the wizard promised. "So, what do you want to tell me?"

"The dirty bits the others tend to avoid. You got the gist of aeons and stuff from Bahamut and Shiva, right? Good, that ain't my field anyway. The other stuff isn't either, but you overhear a lot of things in a temple like this – it's so noisy that people think no one will overhear them," the Fayth grinned somewhat nastily. "So tell me; how much do you know about the Yevonites?"

"Um," Harry hesitated. He hadn't though he'd be getting a lecture on religion – but then, the Fayth had the sort of look on his face that told him it wasn't really going to be a lecture. Gossip, more likely. "Well, I know the Yevon they actually worship is the origin of Sin, and that the religion started because they wanted to calm Sin down. And that the Yevonites sort of run everything now?" he offered.

"Mm-hmm, and it's been a happy little joust to that control," the Fayth agreed. "The thing Shiva's Fayth says about herself, that she became Fayth to keep on fighting Sin? Complete bullshit. She didn't have choice – after she couldn't get the Final Aeon, she was pretty much sacrificed to Yunalesca by her priest buddies. She's not the only one, the Fayths of Valefor and Ifrit are pretty much the same – there was a bit of a shortage of Aeons back then, with people trying to steal them and destroy them."

"Why would anyone want to destroy Aeons?" Harry asked, frowning.

"To stop the pilgrimages. It is sort of like an open secret now, the Final Summoning, but there was a time when people didn't know at all – and when they found out, they got pissed. They tried to hide some of the Aeons to stop the pilgrimages – some three were destroyed because they didn't handle them right. The statues are pretty fragile, they don't handle moving too well," the Fayth scowled. "After all that, Yevonites needed to bolster the ranks of the Aeons, so they had Yunalesca make more. Regardless of if the Fayth's-to-be agreed to it or not."

Harry nodded slowly. He had known all wasn't right with Yevon already, so it wasn't that big a shock. "But that was hundreds of years ago."

"Maybe. Doesn't mean that they've changed their ways – the creation of Anima is just proof of that," the Fayth of Ixion said. "And that's not all I've got to tell you, anyway. Chances are you're going to end up going head to head with the head honchos of the Church sooner or later if you're any good at what you're doing, so you need to be on your toes. The Chocobo Knights are new and just sort of stumbling along right now, and the Church doesn't much mind them, but if you make noise about yourself, and you're probably going to, they'll take a notice of you."

"And it would be better if they didn't," Harry mused, frowning.

"Nah. Shake the bastards up as much as you can, they need it. Just, don't let them manoeuvre you, if you can stop it," the Fayth said. "The Crusaders used to be a free organisation too, before the Yevonites put up their witch hunt for them and Lord Mi'ihen and all. They'll do the same to you, if they think the Knights are going to be something special – and if you'll let them, they'll notice you too, and that's a can of worms you don't want to open."

"What's the worst they could do?" the wizard wondered.

"Think about it for a moment," the Fayth snapped. "Don't you think they don't know about Sin, about what it really is? Of course they know. And they've known for a thousand years – and what have they done about it? They've cashed it in, turned it all into a business," the man snorted. "That's why they took the Summoners and made the temples their own, that's why they made more Fayths when they lost their old ones. They like having the temples, they like having followers and believers and they like the money and power their followers give them. It's damn good business, being in charge of saving the world."

"… Oh," Harry murmured, eyes widening.

"Yeah. It would be bad for business if some upstart Knight went and defeated the thing their whole empire was based upon," the Fayth nodded grimly. "You can imagine what they'd do, if they got the chance."

"So. I should keep quiet," Harry mused.

"No, no. Be as noisy as you can. Just, about the right things. And don't let them put you under their thumbs," the Fayth said. "And, as little as I care for the brat, you being noisy will be good for Tidus, in case you fail. Easier for him to go unnoticed."

Harry smiled faintly. "There's that. Did Bahamut's Fayth take my suggestion?" he asked.

The Fayth of Ixion barked out a laugh. "For all the good it'll do us," he said. "Right now the brat doesn't know the sea from the sun. Which reminds me of another thing. Two things, actually. If you ever run into them, keep in mind that Mika, the Grand Maester of Yevon, is also an Unsent. He died about ten years ago. All the other Maesters know but they say nothing about it because whatever he is, Mika is good at keeping the house at Yevon."

"He is? Huh," the wizard muttered. Frowning, he recalled what Jyscal had said, about Guado's standing against the Unsent being as firm as the times permitted. That must've been what the man had been talking about. "How did Tidus remind you of that?" he asked, just so that he wouldn't start wondering why Jyscal hadn't bothered to mention it to him.

"Because for the last ten years, he's been taken care of by an Unsent fellow by the name of Auron – the other one of Braska's two Guardians," the Fayth said, and grinned crookedly. "He's a bitter old bastard, the other Fayth don't much care for him – he's bit of a thorn in our collective backsides, really, and it always felt weird to have him in the Dream. I kind of liked the guy, though. Tidus was a bit too much of a whiner for me, Auron was much more interesting."

"But, uh… You mean he's an Unsent, from the _actual_ Spira, who… went into the dream?" Harry asked, confused. "And watched for Tidus. How the hell does that work?"

"When you think about it, the Unsent are only their own memories about themselves. But yes, it was difficult – he had to ride Sin in and out, it never would've worked otherwise. Tidus we could've pulled out without any trouble, but Auron was never a natural part of the dream, which messed it all up for everyone. The Fayth are repairing the dream right now, after Sin smashed it up," the Fayth said. "But never mind that. The thing I'm getting to here is that Auron could use a leg up."

"…Okay," the wizard nodded slowly. "I'll help my fellow Unsent out, sure. What do you want me to do?"

"Pick him up," the Fayth said and nodded towards the door. "He's lying on the shore about two miles south from here. Sin nearly absorbed the Pyreflies that form his body so he's kind of breaking apart at the seams."

Harry frowned at that. "Absorbed – can Sin do that to me?" he asked worriedly.

"No, not to you. Bahamut took steps, remember? You can still be Sent if the Summoner is powerful enough to break through the barrier Bahamut set, but Sin's attraction over Pyreflies is more passive that what Summoners do," the Fayth assured. "Just find Auron, slap him about the face a couple of times, something like that. I'd hate to lose the one interesting person of this play so soon."

 

* * *

 

"We're going to be late at this rate," Metryn noted almost pleasantly, as he and Harry rode along the shoreline. "Adrak will have my hide when we finally get to Mi'ihen Highroad."

"I'll explain it to him and hand in a written apology if I have to," Harry promised, frowning at the shore. He was getting a bit irritated with the whole task. They had been looking for this Auron person for nearly an hour now, and there was no sight of him – or of anyone really – along the shore. And it didn't help that it was the rockiest most uncomfortable shoreline ever, with near cliffs here and there forming hidden little caverns and such.

"Well, I don't mind. Sea breeze is nice, if not that good for chocobos. Or our armour," the chocobo specialist noted. "Do the Fayth give you missions like this often?"

"This is the second – third, if you count the whole Sin thing," Harry answered, and smirked to himself. Well, being asked to fool around with Seymour wasn't so much a mission as it was a privilege and a pleasure. If he ever got the chance to actually try it. "Maybe we should spread out?" he asked, patting Sol's neck as the chocobo jerked a bit at a wave, crashing hard against the rocks nearby.

"Yeah, and then you'll get lost and we'll make it to Mi'ihen sometime next week at the earliest," Metryn chuckled and then frowned at something up ahead. "You see that, over there?" he asked, pointing.

Harry looked ahead, frowning and then standing in the stirrups to get a better look. There was something red up ahead. "Please, let it be him," he muttered, sitting back down and then leaning forward to urge Sol to speed up a bit. He was more than ready to leave the gloomy shoreline – even the random patches of green here and there had gotten only irritating after they had given him false hope some dozen times.

The red thing turned out to be a coat – and Harry sighed with relief, seeing that there was a person in the coat. He quickly swung himself down from the saddle and handed the reigns to Metryn before approaching the awkward crook of rough boulders that the man was lying in, half buried in water and sand. The man seemed to be out cold – he didn't react to Harry nearly slipping on a patch of seaweed.

As the wizard crouched beside the man, he saw it was more than being out cold – the man in the red coat was _flickering_ , mostly solid but here and there Harry could see the rocks behind the man. The Fayth of Ixion had been spot on, saying that he was breaking apart at the seams – that was exactly what it looked like.

"Is he dead?" Metryn asked, leaning in for a look.

"About as much as I am," Harry said, grinning faintly and then reaching out to nudge at the red coated man's shoulder. He felt solid – maybe that was a good sign.

The wizard nearly stumbled back as the man turned completely solid so quickly it seemed to just slam into him. The man scowled and opened his eyes, blinking them blearily and asking, "Tidus?" roughly, before blinking again.

"Sorry, Tidus is not here," Harry answered, now convinced this man was the Auron the Fayth had spoken about. He backed away a little as the man frowned and made the attempt to sit up – and then watched with fascination as the man stumbled and the semi-transparency returned. "Okay," the wizard murmured, as Auron began to flicker again. "Not quite here yet, are we?"

While Metryn eyed the two Unsent with fascination, Harry shifted closer again, and pulled the red-coated man up into a seated position. "Come on, Auron, you can do it. I'm not a violent person, so don't make me slap you," Harry said, grinning as the man's head lolled a bit to the side. He prodded at the man's cheek. "Come on, Tidus needs you, you know."

The solidity returned again, and the man managed to lift his head and glare at Harry. "Who are you? How do you know my name?"

"You got a fan among the Fayth; he told me," Harry answered, eying him curiously. "Can you hold onto yourself now?"

The man – who really had an impressive glare, even if it was only one eyed, or maybe because of it – eyed him for a moment before nodding. He glanced down at Harry's armour and then up at Metryn and the two Chocobos before turning to Harry again. "Who are you?" he repeated.

Harry grinned. "You're going to be fun to have around, aren't you? I'm Harry, this is Metryn, that is Sol and Berka. We're Chocobo Knights from Bevelle, I'm an Unsent doing some favours for the Fayth, Metryn is a normal bloke with awesome chocobo taming skills, and the rest is a long story. Can you stand up?"

Auron eyed him silently for a long moment, and Harry almost had to wonder if Spira had legilimency and he had yet to hear about it, before the man finally nodded. "I can," he said – and then failed in the attempt, his knee giving out beneath him and turning transparent with a flicker. He grimaced. "Give me a moment" he grumbled and then glared around them. "Where are we?"

"Two miles south of DjoseTemple – Ixion's Fayth pointed you out to me," Harry said, tilting his head a bit and eying the man, as his legs flickered in and out of transparency. It was weird and kind of disconcerting – and sort of cool too. Had he been flickering when he'd landed? That would've been wicked to see.

"Hm. And you are… Unsent?" Auron asked, now sounding suspicious.

"So are you, Auron, so let's not start pointing fingers," Harry answered, folding his arms and giving him a pointed look. There was a Pyrefly hanging over Auron's shoulder, and it let out an eerie coo as Harry stared at it. "You're a bit more obvious about it than I am at any rate. Do I really have to slap you? Would that jolt you back to reality?"

Auron glared at him.

"Wait, Auron? As in _the_ Auron, _Sir_ Auron?" Metryn asked, giving the man in the red coat a wide eyed look. "High Summoner Braska's Guardian?"

"Never mind that, Metryn," Harry answered and then snapped his fingers, getting an idea. "Your flask, give it to me," he said, holding his had out to Metryn. When the man just stared at him, Harry made a _gimme_ motion with his fingers. "I know you have some booze in that thing. Stop being stingy."

The chocobo tamer eyed him for a moment and then shrugged, taking the flask out and handing it over to Harry who uncorked it and took a small sip to try it, before handing it to Auron. "Moonshine," Harry said, waggling his eyebrows at the man's doubtful expression. "Ought to bring you back to proper coherency."

Auron eyed the flask for a moment and then threw his head back – downing the entire thing in a single go. Metryn let out a small sound of objection and then hung his head, muttering something about having been saving it, while Auron handed the now empty flask back to Harry. Harry grinned, corked it and handed it back to Metryn who gave him an unimpressed look.

"You owe me a drink," the chocobo specialist said. "You owe me _several_ drinks, and don't think I won't collect."

"Sure thing. Hell, I'll even mix them for you if I get the chance," Harry laughed and turned to Auron, watching curiously as the Pyrefly was sucked into to the man and the flickering stopped – Harry waited for a moment but the man remained solid though out. "There, now," the wizard said and stood up, offering his hand to Auron. "We're heading to Mi'ihen Highroad. You want a ride? If nothing else, we can get you to the road to Djose faster than you can get there on foot."

The other Unsent eyed him for a moment and then ignored the hand, picking up an enormous sword from between the rocks he'd been laying on before rising to his feet. He eyed Harry for a moment longer with suspicion before taking out a pair of sunglasses from his coat and slipping them on. "I'd appreciate it," he said gruffly.

"You're one big bundle of joy, aren't you?" Harry snorted.

Metryn sighed. "Right. I'll switch some of Sol's load on Berka, then," he said, turning to the two chocobos, muttering something about Unsent under his breath as he went.

Auron glanced after him and then looked at Harry. "Favours for the Fayth," he said.

"It's a long story," Harry shrugged. "How much do you know about Tidus's purpose here?"

Auron scowled. "How much do _you_ know about it? How do you know about it?"

Harry snorted at him. "Such suspicion!" he said, in mock offence. "And here I'm helping you and all. But in the, heh, spirit of cooperation; the Fayth told me. I even made a little side trip to the dream Zanarkand in my sleep the other day, thanks to the Fayth – very pretty, very impressive, very watery for such a techno-utopia. I know you were there for ten years, I know Tidus is a part of that dream, and I know you rode Sin out of it just a little while ago. And I know Jecht was the same and that he became the Final Aeon for Lord Braska and now he's Sin's newest incarnation. Now," he said. "Do you know _why_ Tidus is here?"

The swordsman eyed him for a while. "I was never explicitly told, but I have my suspicions," he said and then refused to divulge anything else.

Harry eyed him, unimpressed. "Fine, be that way," he said and turned around. "When you get your head out of your arse, we'll try again."

He and Metryn switched most of Sol's burden to Berka's saddle, and Metryn rigged Sol's saddle for two riders. Auron lingered on the sidelines, watching until they were ready. After Harry had mounted, he held out his hand for swordsman who for a moment looked like he was seriously considering walking.

"Come on, what's the worse that could happen?" Harry asked. "You could die?"

"Funny," the man in red coat grumbled, and took his hand, lifting to sit behind Harry with surprising agility.

"Well then, if we're done here," Metryn said. "We're almost two hours behind the others. We'd better get moving."

"Lead the way, sir," Harry said while Sol took a couple cautious steps, glancing behind her shoulder at Harry in question. "It's okay, girl," Harry assured her. "Never mind the undead grump."

"Says the other undead," Auron muttered.

"And yet, not a grump!" Harry grinned and urged Sol to follow Berka, as Metryn guided his bird away from the rocky shoreline and back towards the road. "So," Harry said. "Do you want to come along to Mi'ihen Highroad, or do you want to be dropped at the road to Djose?"

Auron thought about it. "Do you know where Tidus is?"

"Haven't got a clue," Harry admitted. "The only reason I knew where you were is because the Fayth of Ixion told me, and he didn't say where Tidus was. If you head to the Djose temple, maybe he'll tell you."

Auron let out an almost amused harrumph at that. "Some of us," he said darkly, "can't see the Fayth."

"… Huh," Harry muttered. He'd thought it was universal ability among the Unsent, but then again, Auron was the only other Unsent he'd met, and Harry himself probably wasn't the common variety of Unsent.

"If you are going to Mi'ihen Highroad, then take me as far as you go, I'll walk the rest of the way to Luca," Auron said after a while. "Tidus will end up there sooner or later, if not to watch then someone will no doubt end up recruiting him. I'll just have to wait."

"Recruiting him?"

"To play Blitzball," Auron clarified, which didn't clarify anything, really.

"The… sport with the blue and white ball with bumps all over?" Harry guessed, recalling the way Tidus had looked, the fans gathered around him, the autograph signing. "So Luca's the place to play it, huh?"

The other Unsent gave him a strange look. "You don't know Blizball," he said slowly.

"Nope," Harry admitted. "Why? Is it important?"


	7. Chapter 7

Mushroom Rock Road was _bizarre_ , but Harry was pretty much getting used to the weird geology of Spira. Still, the formation of the place, the weird, yeah, mushroom like cliffs and edges, platforms and _roads_ up and down a mountain, and inside it, they baffled him. What made a mountain form like that? It didn't look like someone had carved it – it looked more like it had grown, very much like mushroom, and yet it was all rock.

Harry almost steered Sol right over the edge of some of the weird rock formations while trying to peer over the edge and figure out what had made the place. Auron, judging by the way he grumbled, nudged at him, and eventually started out right punching him in the shoulder, did not appreciate his distraction.

"What is it?" the other Unsent finally growled.

"This place is _weird_ ," Harry answered, absolutely delighted. "Why is it like this?"

"It simply is," the man grumbled. "Mind where we're going!"

"Oh, relax. Sol is a smart bird, she won't jump off a bridge even if I try and make her, she knows better," Harry waved a dismissive hand and tried to see under one of the weird ledges of the Mushroom Rock Road caves. Did the thing have roots?

"And what does it say about you, when your _chocobo_ has more sense than you do?" Auron muttered.

Harry grinned but didn't answer. Five minutes later he was leaning down in the saddle to peer at yet another formation and Auron had probably left dents in the back of his shoulder guard with his latest punch. "You're going to end up breaking your fingers like that," Harry pointed out. "And what kind of swordsman will you make then, with broken fingers."

"I'm an Unsent. It'll heal by itself – if it will break at all."

"You're such a cheater," Harry answered and the man punched him on the shoulder again.

Mushroom Rock Road was mostly deserted, but there were a few people lingering about, or making their way cautiously over or up or down the rocky ledges and the weird rock elevators. Some, it looked like, were soldiers – Crusaders maybe, seeing that they didn't have chocobos. It was one of those people who informed them that the other Bevelle Chocobo Knights had moved past the place a couple hours ago.

"There were a couple of your knights who stayed behind after the main force moved on, though," the Crusader said. "I think one of the chocobos was injured – they continued their way on foot, not too long ago. You might be able to catch them before the exit to Mi'ihen Highroad, if you're quick."

"Thank you," Metryn said and glanced at the cavern the Crusaders had pretty much blocked. "You're already preparing?" he asked.

"One of the caves collapsed," the Crusader explained. "The only one big enough for the crates to pass through. We're clearing it now, but there's still a chance it might collapse further, so we keep civilians out, just in case."

"Ah. Well, good luck with that," Metryn said. "Yevon be with you."

"And you, sir."

As Metryn turned away from the blocked off cavern and Harry urged Sol to follow, Auron peered after them, at the Crusaders. "Preparing for what?" he asked.

Harry shrugged. He hadn't really been given the details of the plan, seeing that he was a novice – and even after the main leaders of the Bevelle Knights had learned his origins, he hadn't exactly been included. As it was, Adrak had been too busy trying to make him blend in better. He knew the overall plan, of course, but not enough to trust himself to explain it.

"That's classified," Metryn said cheerfully. "Sorry Sir Auron."

The Unsent harrumphed, but didn't bother asking again. They made their way up some more rocky roads, down others, up and down ledges – the place was a _maze_. When they found the knights with their injured chocobo, it looked like they were about as lost as Harry felt.

"What happened?" Metryn asked, quickly jumping off Berka and going to their side, to check the chocobo.

"It was a stupid mistake. Ferra is a dumb old beast and I wasn't paying attention – I steered her off the edge," the chocobo's owner, wringing her gauntlet covered hands and sounding absolutely miserable. "And she jumped and I know she can't take fall that high but try and tell it to her! She sprained her ankle I think – it doesn't look broken, but she's limping."

"Well, let's see," Metryn said, crouching down to examine said foot, while Auron quickly took the opportunity to get off the saddle and not so surreptitiously stretch.

Harry grinned and jumped down as well, scratching Sol's chin appreciatively. "You're such a good girl, yes you are," he crooned at her. "Carrying both of us like that without any complaint, such a _good_ _girl_!" She let out a delighted wark at him and head butted his visor in what for a chocobo was a friendly manner – which for him was an impact that would've given him a concussion, if he hadn't been wearing a helmet.

"We're almost at the highroad, now," Auron commented, wincing a little as he straightened his back. "Maybe I should continue on foot…"

"We're heading to the Travel Agency – or very near it," Metryn commented, while lifting the chocobo's talon and urging her to bend it this way and that. "We'll get you there faster than you can get on foot, you know."

"It only hurts once – and then anything from hours to days afterwards," Harry grinned and the other Unsent gave him a dark look.

Metryn hummed and spent another moment examining the chocobo's foot before lowering the talon down. "It sprained alright, but it doesn't look like a bad sprain, nothing to worry about. Still, it's better to keep her on light load for a day or two," he said. "She should be good for a quick walk, though," he added and looked up at the two female knights. "So long as you take it easy."

"Thank you, sir," the knight sighed.

They switched some gear around, to lighten the load on the other female knight's chocobo so that the women could ride together on it while leaving the injured chocobo only with a saddle to carry. Even Sol got a bit added to her load, but after a couple faltering steps to get used to the satchels, plus Harry and Auron, she simply brushed it off.

They proceeded at a slightly slower pace from there on, crossing over the last of the stone bridges and ledges carefully, minding the injured bird, until they finally made it out of the caves and into the sunlight. After the gloom and shadows of Mushroom Rock, it was definitely a welcome change. Blindingly brilliant and almost obnoxiously colourful, but welcome.

While Harry inhaled the scent of the plains ahead, Auron gave him yet another strange look. "You do know that Unsent don't need to breathe," the man commented under his breath. "Right?"

"That doesn't make the wind smell any less sweet," Harry answered and elbowed the other Unsent. "Stop being such a party pooper, Auron, and let me enjoy the little things."

"It's meaningless," the man said, frowning.

"So is everything else if you really start analyzing it. What's the point of living, since we're dead? What's the point of life at all, if everyone and everything that's ever lived, is gonna die? What's the point in trying, if we're all doomed to fade away?" Harry asked and snorted, glancing the man over his shoulder. "One day all of civilisation will be gone and this world will either die in cold and wither in heat or just choke to death and after that no one will be around to remember any of us, or anything we ever did. If you start thinking like that, then there is no bloody point, is there, and you might as well just go off to Farplane while you're at it."

Auron scowled at him.

Harry grinned. "It might not have a meaning in the long run. I'm still going enjoy the ever loving hell out of it," he said. "Because I'm around to do so, and I have senses to appreciate things with, and things are _beautiful_. Besides, we do need to breathe. Even we need air to talk."

"Yes, but not to survive," Auron said and looked away. Then, after a moment, he turned his head and inhaled the scent of the plains slowly.

"That's the spirit," Harry grinned, and the man punched him nearly in the kidneys.

The Mi'ihen Highroad and the Mi'ihen Plains it cut through… wasn't very plainy. The place was a bit of a maze, with ravines and cliffs, the Mi'ihen Highroad taking them over them and around them and occasionally through them. Harry soon figured out why the Mi'ihen Highroad chocobo's were considered faster than Calmland's birds – the fiends in the Mi'ihen Highroad weren't necessarily bigger or stronger, but they were faster.

"We can't outrun them, not with Ferra injured!" Metryn said, turning to Auron and Harry. "Sir Auron, I'd hate to bother you, but with our chocobo's so loaded, we have to fight on foot."

"Which is how I prefer it," the swordsman said, and jumped off Sol's back without a pause, taking his enormous sword. Before the rest of them could even try and dismount, the Unsent in the red coat had already rushed to combat – and said combat was pretty much over, the fiends dealt easily and brutally with a few powerful swings of the enormous sword.

Harry whistled in appreciation. So that was the difference between your regular old soldier, and a Legendary Guardian, huh? Damn.

"Sir Auron?" one of the female knights asked, her eyes wide, while the fiends burst into Pyreflies and Auron scattered them with a few lazy swings of his sword. "That's _Sir Auron_?"

"Impressive old grouch, isn't he?" Harry commented, making the other Unsent give him a dark look. Harry grinned and waved. "Nice job, grumpy. Keep it up and I'll have to become a fan."

"Please spare me," the swordsman muttered and glanced at Metryn. "I can probably handle most that the Mi'ihen Highroad can throw at us, and I'm more used to fighting on foot. So as long as we don't run into larger groups, you can leave the fiends to me."

"If you say so, sir," Metryn said, also looking impressed. "It's much appreciated."

Auron nodded and came back to Sol's side, to return to the saddle. Harry faked a fanning motion. "So cool, Sir Auron," he said, grinning, and the man elbowed him in the side. "And so mean too. Ouch."

"Act your age," Auron grumbled.

" _Never_."

It took them another couple hours and a few more random attacks by the local fiends, before they made their way through the labyrinth of ravines and cliffs and to the actual Mi'ihen plains. Auron handled all the fiend attacks, and watching him do it with quick, lethal competence never got any less exciting. The sheer experience in the man's every movement, all of them easy and efficient and expertly executed. It was the sort of skill that Harry would probably never have, the sort of skill that came not only from long habit and practice, but life long, dedicated study.

It really made him wonder about Auron's history. Sure, the man was a Guardian, _the_ Guardian even, and that apparently was a benchmark of excellence. But Braska had only become the High Summoner some ten years ago, and his pilgrimage to defeat Sin probably hadn't taken longer than year or so. That left a lot of years unaccounted for.

"What were you before you became a Guardian?" Harry finally asked, because he could.

Auron eyed him for a moment, looking almost like he was contemplating ignoring the question out of sheer spite. "A warrior monk," he then answered. "From Bevelle."

Harry arched an eyebrow at that. "Neat," he then said. A warrior monk. Spira had _warrior_ monks!

"Not really," Auron muttered. "I dedicated myself to following the precepts of a faith that… turned out to be fake. There's nothing _neat_ about it."

"Well. When you put it that way," Harry mused. "Never been a religious or spiritual person myself, so I can't say how it must be like, when your faith betrays. You have my sympathies, though."

"How very comforting."

"You're a sarcastic bastard, and if you think that'll make me like you any less, you're _so_ wrong. I love it, don't think I don't," Harry grinned.

Auron glared at him. "You are very strange and I will be happier to forget your very existence."

"You say the sweetest things."

They came to the plains and picked up the pace a little, as much as the injured chocobo's foot allowed. Harry wistfully wished he could've taken his helmet off to enjoy the warm wind rushing past – but he'd taken Tar's growled lesson's to heart and Unsent or not, a brain injury wasn't something he felt like risking. As it was though, it was still an enjoyable experience – and Sol seemed to agree, with how much she tried to get out of their wedge formation and rush past the others.

They managed to run past the few fiends they came across, until finally the camp came into view against the darkening evening sky – and what a camp it was. It was set just off the main road, with the Bevelle Chocobo Knights already pitching their familiar tents among the other, less familiar ones, with lamps hung on tent corners and set on poles to light everything up for the upcoming night. There were chobobos _everywhere_ , some of them penned up, others tied to fence poles, some wandering about aimlessly, so tame that they were almost under foot as the knights of three different sects went about the camp.

"The Chocobo Knights have more members these days, I see," Auron commented.

"We've had some successful campaigns, both on battle fields and in marketing," Metryn said, as they all dismounted. "Jina, bring Ferra here and I'll have another look at the foot, see if it's swelling. Kinsa, go and report to the Captain."

"Sir!" the other female knight said, handing the reigns of her bird to Harry as she rushed to find Captain Adrak. Harry gave the bird a scratch, and then had to give another to a jealous Sol. As he did he curiously peered at the people around them, the knights from Djose and from Mi'ihen.

It was easy to tell the Bevelle Knights apart from the rest – they were the only ones wearing uniform armour and helmets, and they were the only ones with shields. The others had a somewhat ramshackle array of gar, ranging from simple jackets to some random pieces of chest armour to, well, nothing at all. There was one woman wandering about with armoured plates around her hips and on her thighs, but with her upper body almost completely bare, aside from what amounted to a bikini top.

Harry could immediately tell why the others were wearing such light armour – or no armour at all. The Mi'ihen and Djose birds were visibly smaller and lighter than the birds originating from the Calm Lands – they made Sol look like a giant in comparison. And where the Djose and Mi'ihen knights had barely bothered to armour themselves, they had pulled out all the stops to protect their birds – the armour of the Djose and Mi'ihen birds was just as covering as that on the Bevelle birds, in some cases more so.

It was probably a coin toss, with the smaller birds – you could either armour the bird or yourself, but you couldn't really do both.

"There you are," He heard Adrak's voice, as the captain crossed over the grassy clearing to join them. "I was starting to think you'd all fallen off the ledges and broken your necks, all of you. What kept you?"

"Sorry sir, I was asked to do a favour," Harry said, and motioned at Auron. "May I present, Sir Auron?"

Adrak blinked and eyed the Legendary Guardian. "Sir Auron?" he said slowly.

"Your knights were kind enough to give me a ride from the Djose shore," the swordsman said, nodding.

Adrak arched an eyebrow at that and glanced at Harry. Then he shook his head. "Well, it's an honour to meet you, sir," he said, offering his hand to Auron, who shook it firmly. "I'm glad my knights were of service. We're almost done setting up camp and will have some dinner soon – you're welcome to join us, and we can find a bunk for you for the night, save you the gil of staying at the Agency."

Auron considered it and then nodded. "Much appreciated," he said and glanced around. "There are a lot of knights here," he then commented.

"We're going to be doing some joint exercises," Adrak said, looking around with a proud smile. "And establishing some common formations for future joint operations. We Chocobo Knights have been somewhat fractured over the years, all three sects working mostly alone with very little cooperation between sects, and without any clear unifying rules or guidelines. We're going to be fixing that, in the following weeks."

"You're organising?" Auron asked, with a thoughtful look. "Interesting."

"It's a very exciting time for us, to be sure," Adrak said and motioned towards the Bevelle Knight's section of the camp. "Let me show you around. This way, Sir Auron."

Harry watched them walk away with some amusement and glanced at Metryn. "Look at the Captain, being all smooth," he said.

Metryn smiled, glancing up from the chocobo he was tending to. "Why do you think he's the captain?" he asked. "Go and tend to the birds. That's our pen over there."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, looking at Sol and the other chocobo, who's name he didn't know. "Well, come on then. Let's get you two out of those saddles."

He spent about a half an hour, getting the birds properly cleaned, pampered and fed and, once they were both happily munching on greens, he head off to find a place to dump his things. Harry found a bunk for himself in a tent with the other novices and dumped his things there, what little he had, before heading off to find food.

He didn't get to talk to Auron again until late into the night – after Adrak took Auron around, everyone wanted to talk with the man. Being the Legendary Guardian was apparently a bigger deal than Harry had thought – everyone knew the man, everyone wanted to talk with him, they even asked him for advice and for lessons and for approval, there were even people who confessed that Auron was their hero, their idol, they'd taken up the sword because of Auron, and so on. Plus there were a whole two sects of Chocobo Knights who wanted to do the same. Auron had a bit of a crowd following him by the time he was through looking around.

Watching Auron shoulder all the adoration with an air of perfect unflappability was kind of amusing.

Eventually the lieutenants commanded everyone to either bed or to their posts and the camp begun settling in for the night. Harry didn't, but his fellow novices and those knights who knew him at all didn't say anything about it – they were by now used to the fact that he slept very little and preferred to spend his sleepless hours in _contemplation_ or _meditation_.

Harry was pretty sure they all thought he was a summoner now – those who didn't think he was an unsent anyway – so they just smiled and nodded and told him they completely understood. It would've made him feel bad, except… except since it meant he could get away with lot of crap, he didn't.

After making an idle circuit of the Bevelle Knights part of the camp, Harry made his way to the edge of it, to stare at the last hints of the sunset over the plains. The plains were still not completely flat, even beyond the maze of ravines at the roof of Mushroom Rock Road, and there were ruins here, pillars and what looked like long collapsed temples or something, but he was used to that. There were a lot of ruins in Spira.

They didn't make the place any less pretty.

"There used to be a city here," Auron's voice commented behind him. "Allaca, it was called. It was bigger than Luca and Bevelle combined, once."

"Oh?" Harry asked, glancing over his shoulder as the swordsman walked up to him and then sat beside him on the mound of grass and rock where Harry had settled for his _contemplation_. "What happened to it?"

"The same thing that happened all the places that are now in ruins. Sin," Auron answered, stretching his legs out. "Macalania city went the same way. Kilika used to have big a city too, same with Besaid… and about a dozen more."

Harry frowned and then looked at the ruins of pillars and buildings that stuck out from the plains like someone had just scattered them randomly about. Of course he knew Sin had destroyed places – Zanarkand was a prime example of that. But it was different knowing it, and hearing that there had been many of them. "Guess that explains why there are so many Pyreflies around," he said then.

Auron gave him a surprised look. Then he let out a sound, half a scoff, half a chuckle. "It took me months to make that connection," he muttered.

Harry shrugged. "I'd been wondering why there are so damn many of them around. Like at Moonflow, the place is full of them – I've been trying to wrap my mind around the fact that no one's gone out there and just Sent the lot of them. Would solve a lot of problems, yeah? But… I guess someone has."

Auron hummed. "Many times. Whenever a summoner party makes their way through Moonflow, the summoner tends to spend a day or two walking the Moonflow, sending. It barely even makes a dent. For a while, maybe, for a day or two. But eventually the Pyreflies gather again."

Harry nodded and glanced at him. "You're talkative," he commented.

Auron rolled his single eye. "I talked things over with your captain. He considers you a good man, if something of a headache, and obviously he knows you're an unsent, and supports your… mission, though he did not tell me what it is," he said. "If the Fayth of Ixion really told you where to find me, then…" he trailed off, and shrugged.

"Hm," Harry answered, turning his eyes back to the sunset. "So, now we'll have a heart to heart about Fayth and dreams and missions, hm?"

"You asked me if I knew why Tidus was here," Auron said, idly taking the flask from his hip and examining it. "Why he and Jecht were brought here. I think Jecht was brought here because he's an outsider. The Fayth thought he could make a difference. Do things differently. Tidus is the same, more or less."

Harry nodded. "So am I," he said, and when Auron glanced at him sharply he shrugged. "Not the being a dream part, mind you, but I'm bit of an outsider too. Spira, as it is, is a pretty new thing for me. And that's why the Fayth bother with me at all – because I, like Tidus, have got a new perspective on this whole… thing," he said, motioning at the ruins.

"You're… meant to work together then?" the swordsman asked, frowning.

"Nah. I'm the failsafe in case Tidus fails. Tidus is the failsafe in case I fail. The further apart we are, the better for everyone," Harry said, waving a dismissive hand at the man. "Shouldn't be putting all your eggs in one basket and all."

Auron eyed him for a moment and then nodded. "Good," he said and they were quiet for a moment, eying the darkening horizon in almost comfortable silence. Then Auron uncorked his flask and took a long swig, before holding it out to Harry. "The commissary gave me a refill," he man explained.

"Nice of them," Harry said, accepting the flask.

"Will need to get something better in Luca, though," Auron added idly, while Harry grimaced at the poor attempt at grog the thing had in it.

"Yeah. Eaurgh," the wizard muttered. Then he had another drink, this time a bit better prepared for the taste.

Auron snorted at him, turning to look at the ruins. "I didn't know this place had a name, not before I went to Zanarkand," he admitted suddenly. "I didn't know much about any of the ruins around Spira, or the cities they used to be."

"Why not?"

"History is not exactly a subject widely taught. A lot of it's taboo," Auron muttered and shook his head. "Knowledge suppressed by Yevon's Church, I suppose. The Zanarkand the Fayth dream of had a lot of the knowledge lost here, though, history from before. Films, books, maps… The world used to be much bigger before Sin. Spira as it is now barely has a million people, and that's all the intelligent races combined. There used to be over four billion people around the time Zanarkand was at its prime, and that's only humans. Can you imagine that?"

"Looking at this place… not really," Harry admitted. But he could see it, how it must've been like when cities like Zanarkand had been the norm. Earth had been similar – at the peak of its population, many, many years after he died, it had had over thirty billion people. If all those people had lingered on, like the dead on Spira did…

Auron snorted grimly, taking his flask back. "A thousand years, and summoners are still Sending the Pyreflies from those destroyed cities."

 

* * *

 

The next morning, while the captains of the three sects put their heads together and started planning out the joint formations, Harry was pulled aside by Lieutenant Darak, the official second in command of the Bevelle Knights, and the owner of their fastest bird after Metryn's Berka.

"The two of us are going to be escorting Sir Auron to Luca," she informed him, firmly, brooking no arguments. "After that I will escort you to the libraries for your magic studies, as per Captain Adrak's orders."

"Already?" Harry asked with surprise. He'd thought he'd be included in the formation practices.

"Yes. It is the best time, while the leaders plan – we won't begin formal training until later on, so this is the only opening, the Captain says," she nodded. "Be ready to move out in ten minutes."

"Yes, ma'am," Harry answered, and watched her march away, stiff backed and gleaming in her well polished armour. "Scary," he murmured, wondering if she and Adrak were related somehow. They had the exact same hair and eye colour, and something about the way they wore armour…

Shaking his head he headed off to get his things ready, before grabbing a quick bite to eat and going to tend to Sol. He was just ready when Darak came forth, her chocobo's armour gleaming just as much as hers. Auron, who like Harry looked no worse for wear for all the drinking they'd done the previous night, was with her, following the well-polished Chocobo Knight at a deceptively casual pace.

"Looks like we're riding again. Aren't you excited?" Harry asked, grinning.

"Thrilled," the swordsman answered, giving him a _look_.

"Since your bird has the advantage of size and speed, Sir Auron will be riding with you," Darak said, mounting her chocobo without pause, smooth as anything. "If we're quick about it, we'll reach Luca before noon."

"Then let's be quick," Harry said, and eased himself onto Sol's back before offering a hand to Auron, who sighed and got up behind him, settling onto the back of the saddle with a wince. Harry wanted to needle him for it a bit, but Darak wasn't at all easy going like Metryn was and without a word she just set out, forcing Harry to do the same or be left behind.

"So, what are you going to do in Luca, if Tidus isn't there?" Harry asked after making sure the Lieutenant was safely out of hearing range, glancing at Auron over his shoulder.

"Find lodgings and wait by the Blitzball stadium. He'll end up appearing sooner or later," the man said with obvious confidence. "That boy is hopelessly addicted to Blizball."

"Good for you," Harry grinned. "What's he like, aside from hopelessly addicted to Blizball?" he asked, wondering what made the Fayth love him so much.

Auron considered that for a moment and then answered, "He's somewhat stupid, arrogant, loud, and he never thinks anything through before acting. Bit of a cry-baby."

Harry blinked at that. "Well that… inspires confidence."

Auron hummed in agreement. "He's also very kind, surprisingly patient and good with people despite being so impatient with everything else," he added quietly. "He's a genuinely nice and caring person and for someone who grew up in the luxury of the dream Zanarkand, that's saying something. Hard worker too, when he has the motivation."

The wizard glanced back at him. "Look at you, all proud," he said, grinning when Auron punched him on the back. "Can't deny it now, no matter how much you hit me. Also, stop hitting me!"

"Hmph," the swordsman answered, looking away. "I suppose I am, though," he answered. "I didn't have much hand in bringing him up, though – people from that place, they don't… _work_ the same way normal humans do. They don't grow older or develop or change, not outside the Fayth's influence. Tidus didn't either, not really – he is what he is because he _simply is_ , not because he was raised that way. But watching over him, it wasn't so bad."

Harry smiled at that, thinking back to his own children. "Sometimes that's all you can do, watch over them," he said, looking ahead.

"You sound like you have some experience with that."

"I did, long ago. _Twelve times_ ," Harry grinned. "Never mind the grandchildren, or the great grandchildren. Or the great great grandchildren…"

Auron let out a choking noise. " _Twelve_?" he asked incredulously.

"I lived a long, happy and rather promiscuous life," Harry laughed, glancing at the man over his shoulder. "I was a cranky grey bearded old man when I died, but young in spirit. Obviously," he added, motioning at his body in all of its mid-twenties glory and shrugging his shoulders. "Did you have any other kids, aside from Tidus?"

"…No," Auron answered after a moment of thought. "I was a monk I before the pilgrimage and then I died. I had the opportunity, sure, but… it wasn't something I wanted. Which Tidus proved loud and clear – I didn't have to do much for him, and already it was a bit too much."

"It's not for everyone," Harry agreed, laughing.

They chatted some more about Tidus, Auron relaxing into the discussion as they went – Harry got the impression the man hadn't really expected to get the chance to really talk about it with anyone and after the initial suspicion had passed, the man was more than happy to get it out. All the weirdness of the dream Zanarkand, where it was a perpetual midnight and sun never shone, where the night was always lit by the artificial lights, where people were sometimes so full of life it hurt to look at them, and sometimes so hollow that they felt like ghosts.

Apparently those individuals in Zanarkand the Fayth didn't pay attention to spoke the same things over and over again, like broken records.

"Sometimes people just vanished and were replaced by other people, or they changed," Auron added quietly. "Tidus… when I went there, he was eight years old – and he stayed that way for a couple of years, not aging a day in between. He grew up overnight, a couple years after I went there. He went to bed as a perpetual eight year old and then I had breakfast with a seventeen year old version of him. He never noticed – to him it was as if he'd grown up normally. He didn't have any memories of the years between, but he never felt the lack. He didn't age after that, not a day in seven years."

"Wow," Harry muttered. "Well, it is a dream. Dreams have all sorts of bizarre things and changes that feel perfectly normal to the dreamer."

"And to the dream," Auron agreed.

"Must've been hard, being the only normally aging person in the dream," Harry commented.

"It got easier once I got used to it," Auron sighed. "All the same, I'm glad I'm out of it now."

It was around noon when Luca came into view. Harry whistled in appreciation, when the first buildings peaked past the plains. There were stone towers and flag poles everywhere and even at a distance the architecture looked colourful and surprisingly intricate for a world where a big monster went around destroying everything.

"Is that… the ocean?" Harry asked, breathless, inhaling. "Yeah, I can definitely smell the ocean!"

"Luca's one of the major ports on the continent," Auron agreed, pulling him down when Harry went to stand up in his stirrups, to have a closer look. "Keep your ass in the saddle. I do not want to come face to face with it.

"Aww, but I have an excellent arse," Harry grinned, but kept his butt in the saddle, despite how much he wanted to look. Thankfully they weren't far now, and about ten minutes later Darak stopped by a balcony type of square that stood over the city.

Luca was _beautiful._ It was white, with reds and blues thrown everywhere, and it looked a bit like it was about to have a parade or something, with flags strung everywhere. There were decorative pillars and poles and even the streets were paved in intricate designs and everything was just _nice_. Harry could even swear he could hear music coming from the town. And past the buildings and temple like towers and flagpoles, there was a harbour that shone brilliant blue in the sunlight.

"Oh," he breathed, absolutely enthralled. "Oh, I like this place." It just looked like people had gone a long, long way to make the place nice and cheerful looking and they'd succeeded at it, too – and knowing Spira and Sin and all that, it seemed like a miraculous feat of effort.

"We'll be able to find lodgings over there," Darak said, ushering her chocobo next to his as she pointed towards one of the larger buildings nearby. "The Luca Blue Hotel. Since it's not quite the Blitzball tournament yet, there will be space – and they have stellar chocobo stables. Come on."

Harry almost whined at that, wanting to have a longer look – but Darak didn't seem like a woman one could whine at, so he just sighed and gave the city a last appreciative look, before following the woman towards the winding passageway that led down and into the city below.

The city was no less beautiful and happy on street level though – and oh the people. Where as the people in Bevelle had worn magnificent long coats and robes and dresses, here people seemed to have ditched about eighty percent of clothing in general. They went around in shorts and bikinis and about a million bizarre variations – and no wonder. It was damn hot, in Luca.

"I am so ditching my armour the moment I can," Harry grumbled, wincing at the feel of the armoured plates, heating up. Auron, the smug bastard, just laughed at him.

The Luca Blue Hotel was, like the name said, blue. They took the chocobos to the stables and did a quick once over them, before heading inside – and it was _all blue_. It had a blue front, with blue pillars decorating it, and the interior was so blue it was almost part of the ocean itself. Blue floor tiles with blue walls and a blue ceiling, with two indoor fountains at each side of the front desk, both of the almost completely blue. The sound of their trickling along with the sheer blueness of it all was _ridiculously_ relaxing.

"I guess you're getting a room too?" Harry asked, curiously, looking at the Legendary Guardian who'd trailed after him and Darak and into the hotel.

Auron considered him. "Want to share?" he then asked, taking Harry a bit by surprise.

"Are you coming onto me, sir?" Harry asked, grinning with delight at the thought.

"Hardly," the man rolled his single eye. "I'm short on gil. And I wouldn't mind a bit of company and a tolerable drinking partner wouldn't go amiss either."

Harry grinned. "Can't argue with that," he said and tuned to Darak who was eying him dubiously. "It'll save money, ma'am," he said, grinning.

"I suppose," she said, looking at Auron. "Sure it won't be a bother, Sir Auron?"

"I'm the one who asked, wasn't I?" the swordsman asked, arching a single eyebrow.

So Harry got to room with Auron while Darak took a single room. "I'll be attending to some business for the Captain here, in town," the Lieutenant said once they'd settled in. "We're low on potions supplies and the like, which I will be looking to restock. Which means that you are expected to manage your mission by yourself, Novice," she added, giving Harry a look. "Meaning your magical studies. Can you do it?"

"I'm sure I can manage somehow," Harry answered easily.

"I can show him to the library," Auron said, idly going through his equipment and leaving some of it on his bed. "It's not that far, after all."

"Very well. I expect you to behave in manner suitable for a Chocobo Knight," Darak added, looking at Harry severely. "I know the Mi'ihen and Djose knights are very light hearted when it comes to these things, but we are from Bevelle and as such, we need to behave in the correct manner. Is that understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," Harry answered with wide eyes.

"Good. I will see you this evening, or tomorrow morning by the latest," she said. "For now you may expect that we will stay at least until the afternoon tomorrow."

"Yes, ma'am," Harry said again, and watched as the woman nodded and then marched out of their room. "Well she's a stiff one," he murmured, scratching at his scarred cheek. "The other Bevelle Knights aren't nearly so stiff. Even Adrak is a bit more relaxed."

"Hm," Auron answered without interest. "Do you want to head to the library now?"

"Ah, let me change out of my armour first," Harry answered. "No way am I lugging this much iron around a place this hot."

He switched to the clothing he'd worn before he had joined the Bevelle Chocobo Knights, donning the trouser and the shirt he'd worn upon arriving in Spira. They were still a bit too covering for the local weather, but certainly better than wearing the padded leathers, or the armour.

"If fiends attack, you'll be completely unprotected," Auron commented, watching him.

Harry paused, arching an eyebrow. "Are they likely to attack a town like this?" he asked, surprised.

"It's known to happen," Auron shrugged. "There are Crusaders here who usually manage the attacks, but Luca has a lot of people and large population always attracts fiends. Luca is also known for Sinspawn attacks, though those are usually concentrated in the harbour."

"Huh," Harry answered, considering it. He gave his armour a morose look. He couldn't really wear it without wearing the leathers, not if he didn't want to be bruised blue and purple by it. "I guess I'll have to take my chances," he said, taking his naginata and resting the length of it against his shoulder. "Besides, I'm dead. What's the worse thing that could happen?"

"Seriously?" Auron asked, giving him a look. " _Seriously_?"

Harry grinned. "My favourite saying," he admitted. "Tends to make absolutely sure something interesting will happen before long."

The Legendary Guardian just stared at him flatly, before sighing. "I think I hate you a little."

"And that's what the best friendships are build upon," Harry agreed with a grin, and clapped his hand on the man's shoulder. "Come on. Let us go to the place of books so that I may learn great magics. And then you can go stalk the Blitzball stadium for the dreamy boy wonder."

Auron sighed again. "…Maybe more than a little," he muttered at Harry's cackling. He still stood up and together they headed out, Auron to feign complete disinterest at everything and Harry to gawk at everything without shame.

It was the start of an absolutely beautiful friendship.

 


End file.
